It Wasn't An Angel That Watched Over Us
by Far Away In Wonderland
Summary: AU: Dean and Sam have someone watching over them; a being with ties to both heaven and hell, but belonging to neither, helping them to hunt the Supernatural. But even though they don't know exactly what or who he is (or his more-or-less maniac friend, who sometimes stops by), heaven and hell should watch their backs, because the Winchesters have someone covering theirs.
1. Not Your Usual Doctor (Betaed)

Cold.

That was the predominant feeling in nearly-six-year-old Dean Winchester´s numb fingers whilst trying to change his eighteen-month-old brother´s diaper. They had to stay in another motel on the border of some town in Wyoming where the heater did not work while their father was out, hunting a vengeful spirit who had already killed five people in the house he inhabited in a rather gruesome way.

The closed curtains had countless holes and were closed to insure that no one would be able to look into the room; a rather pointless endeavor, for you were still able to see through the windows because of the thin fabric. Due to the temperature a thin layer of ice had been built up and numerous cracks in it gave the impression of a delicate pattern carved into it by a highly skilled artisan. If you looked closely enough you would be able to recognize a form similar to a tree with branches spreading out over the whole surface of the ice. When the moon broke through the thick layers of clouds its light would make those cracks glow in silver, creating an atmosphere of otherworldly calmness. But this phenomenon wouldn't last long because in the moment the moon was again hidden behind the clouds the room would sink back into an eerie semi-darkness only disrupted by the weak light of the lamp at the ceiling.

Turning from the iced window, you would find a typical, filthy motel room. The wallpapers, once white, now were a sickly yellow color with brown stains splayed above the kitchen, where someone hadn't been able to take their food from the stove in time. The carpet, too, was brown, in all likelihood disguising the fact that it hadn't been cleaned in a long time, if the dark spots were an indicator to go by. Placed on it were two middle-sized beds which covers were made out of a rough blue fabric which had to cause some rather serious itches if someone were to use them the whole night. And itches were the only things those blankets were useful for because they were too thin to keep a body warm in this cold nights. In the same corner where you could find the kitchen you would also find a table, which was currently occupied by a young toddler whose diaper Dean tried to change.

Forest-green eyes narrowed to tiny slits as young Dean concentrated, attempting to hold down Sam who cried and constantly tried to escape the grip of his older brother. Dean stood on a chair, struggling to keep his balance as Sam wriggled uncomfortably.

Sam wasn't well, Dean could tell. His skin was red and when he touched it, Dean could feel that Sam´s body temperature was too high. His brother was on the edge of getting a serious fever; panic rose within him at the thought.

He became responsible for his baby brother the moment his dad had pressed the bundle of blankets into his arms as their house burst into flames. Since then, he had been the one to calm his brother when he cried, to feed him when he was hungry and to tell him stories of superheroes while they drove through the apparently endless mid-western United States.

Although only five years old, Dean knew that their father needed his help to take care of little Sammy. He often came back to their rented room drunk, his gaze unfocused and constantly twiddling with his wedding band as if he was about to decide whether to throw it away or to keep it. Sometimes, he even forgot to bring food and Dean had to fall back on the meager provisions he managed to accumulate. When he wasn't drunk, his dad constantly impressed the dangers of the Supernatural upon Dean, how it was his duty to protect Sammy or how it was up to Dean to take care of everything while he was on a hunt. Dean knew that his dad loved them; he knew he was a hero who protected the innocent from what lurked in the darkness. But sometimes, he wished his dad would simply stay with him and Sam, that he'd assure him that everything would be okay, that Dean and Sam were safe and that there would be a time in the future where everything would be back to what it used to be.

Because deep down, Dean was just a terrified boy who had witnessed his mother´s unnatural death and now shouldered too much for his tender age. Images of his mom burning on the ceiling in Sammy´s nursery and the fear of losing his dad to some monster gave him nightmares at night and made his sleep a restless one. Only the thought that Sammy needed someone strong to rely on kept Dean from bursting into tears every single moment his thoughts turned dark.

A pitiful cough made it out of Sammy´s mouth and, again, Dean had to work hard to keep the fear at bay. Maybe the guy behind the reception desk would have some medicine for Sammy? But Dean´s dad had ordered them to stay in the room. He had taken precautions like drawing a devil's trap under the doormat and sealing the room with a salt line; precautions that would not protect them if they left the room. Dean was torn between obedience to his father and the well-being of his younger brother. What should he do? Tears threatened to spill over and Dean shut his eyes for a short moment. When he opened them, he looked into his brother´s hazel eyes. The normally joy-filled and curious eyes were now half-closed and tired, so tired.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean desperately said to his brother. "You´re a strong boy. You have to fight it. Like Batman." He stroked Sam´s forehead, through the sweat that beaded there.

"You need something cool," Dean said, to himself rather to Sammy. He jumped from his chair and went to the sink, taking a towel from its hook and holding it under the streaming flow of water until it was soaked. He then wrung it over the sink and went back to Sammy, where he folded it into a rectangle small enough to fit it on Sam´s forehead.

"Here, now it should feel better," he murmured as he covered his brother´s forehead with the wet fabric. Sam gave a small sigh of relief. Dean stroked Sam´s brown hair while he looked down on his brother.

"Your brother will not last the night."

Dean nearly felt from the chair when the voice suddenly spoke from behind. As fast as he could, he positioned himself between Sam and the newcomer in order to protect his brother if necessary. Dean didn't know what to do; it was so cold, his brother was ill and now something definitely non-human was standing in the room, threatening him and his brother. His hands began to shake and no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he couldn't mask his fear. Tears were slowly beginning to run down his cheeks, feeling so warm on his cold skin. Should he call his dad? Should he try to grab Sammy and run? Or should he fight? Dean was paralyzed, his young mind trying to process everything currently happening. Although only a few seconds passed, it felt like an eternity for Dean.

Dean´s options were severely limited: He wasn't an even match for a human opponent, proven by some of the training fights he had had with his father; so how could he hope to survive a fight against a Supernatural being he didn't know anything about? And taking Sammy and running? Where? And how should he prevent this monster from following them? Maybe it was really fast and could catch up to them the second Dean tried to make an escape? No, Dean thought and gulped, there was no escape; neither for him nor for his brother.

Maybe an opportunity for escape would present itself later? Dean really hoped so. When the monster was distracted or would gloat over them, he would be able to throw salt at it or run. With this solution present, Dean was able to calm himself down and look at the being now occupying the room with them.

The newcomer looked like a normal teenager. He was rather tall and slim built, clothed in black trousers and white shirt over which he wore a black business coat that nearly reached the ground. On any other youth, it would have looked rather ridiculous but the boy commanded an aura of superiority. His hair was pitch black and neatly combed. You could describe the boy´s facial features as aristocratic: his skin was fairly pale, his nose lean and straight, while his high cheek-bones accented thin and red lips which were set in a straight line.

His eyes – that was Dean's first hint that the boy wasn't human. Where the whites of his eyes should have been were flames in all shades of gold, as though the boy's eyes were on flames, slowly burning around cat-like pupils. Dean was mesmerized – the flames were reaching out for him, calling for him and he wanted to give in, because the cold, the fear, the worry constantly nagging on his mind would be forgotten if he just reached out for those small tendrils of fire. As if the creature could read his thoughts, the flames suddenly died down, leaving behind only plain blue human eyes.

Dean returned to his senses and took a more defensive position in front of his brother. He didn't know what this creature was or what it wanted, but he would rather die than letting it get to his brother. His heartbeat quickened and Dean clenched his fists. The newcomer didn't seem to notice; he stood, relaxed, looking into Dean's eyes.

"I mean no harm towards you or your brother," he spoke calmly. "But like I mentioned, your brother will perish at night´s end if he does not receive help. There's not much human medicine could do for him now anyway, even if he received it immediately." Dean tried to not show how the stranger´s word affected him, how it made the carefully held back fear rise again. He swallowed.

_Think of what dad is always saying_, he thought in order to steel himself against the creature´s words. Monsters lie. They only want to hurt and kill. He clenched his fists harder, burying his nails deep into his skin, ignoring the pain it caused.

"I am aware that you have no apparent reason to trust me. But be assured, I have only your brother´s best interests at heart," the creature continued. "I know your father´s insistent warnings concerning the Supernatural. But don't let this instilled mistrust and hate cloud your judgment concerning the well-being of your brother." Dean did not move, not even an inch. He didn't understand everything the being said, but he knew that it tried to play him against his father. The creature sighed.

"Dean," it said, using Dean's name for the first time. "I'll show you the means with which I want to heal your brother. If you detect any evil intent, anything suspicious to you, I will leave and send an ambulance for you. But if there is no such evil, if you do not detect anything, will you allow me to heal your brother?"

Dean looked down at his feet, struggling with himself. On one hand, this thing was something Supernatural, something which he had to fear and hate, something like what killed his mother and made his dad into the man he now was; on the other, it could help Sammy – if it was telling the truth. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to take his brother and run as fast as he could, but despite this Dean slowly nodded in acceptance. The creature took its cue and slowly lowered itself to its knees, until it was on Dean´s level. Then it extended one arm and opened its palm. A white light rose until it floated 30 centimeters above the creature´s hand. It was beautiful – as Dean looked at it, he could do nothing to stop the awe which spread through his body. The light eased all his fears, all his concerns, all his insecurities. The first time since his mother´s death, Dean didn't feel lonely, but secure and loved instead. The light seemed to heal all the pain the nearly-six-year-old had gone through the last couple of months, seemed to erase all the trouble which were a constant ache on the boy´s soul. Dean knew that this light was good, that it would help his brother and that it was nothing to be afraid of. He met the creature´s intense stare, its human eyes.

"Am I allowed to heal Sam?" it asked. Dean just nodded. The being rose from its ducked posture and slowly approached the quiet figure of Sam. With alert eyes Dean followed the creature´s every move, ready to act should anything suspicious happen. When the creature was near enough, the orb of light left its position and slowly circled around Sammy – and then sank into his belly and went out. Dean wanted to leap up and to attack the monster, stopping it from further harming his brother, but a tight grip on his shoulder prevented him from doing so.

"Wait and see, Dean," the creature said patiently. "Wait and see."

Suddenly, Sam´s belly started to glow at the same position where the orb should be. Slowly, thin tendrils of light made their way through Sam´s body, splitting into many different paths until he looked like he was covered in glowing vines. Then, they started to fade away like they'd never been there at all.

"You can make sure that your brother is better," the creature said, letting go of Dean´s shoulder. Dean went to his brother, taking the now dry towel from his head. He touched Sam´s skin – no heat or sweat. And then Sam started to gurgle and laugh and Dean felt as if his heart could burst with joy. He gripped his brother and hugged him as fiercely as he could. Then he turned to the creature still standing at the edge of the table.

"Why?" Dean asked, the first word he had spoken since the boy´s arrival. It was only on little word, but it contained so much: Why did you help? What is it you want? Why us? The creature seemed to understand.

"Your life has been nothing but hard for you. I know how it feels, when everything you know and hold dear is destroyed, when your world is torn asunder and you are left behind defenseless and without help, without someone to hold on to. I know how it feels to lose your siblings," it said, barely above a whisper. Its eyes focused on a point far away, as if it wasn't in a run-down hotel in Wyoming but in a memory. "I wanted to spare you the pain and I want to help you, for there will be many obstacles which are yet to come. Powers far beyond you have cast their eyes onto you and your brother, Dean, powers which ruthlessly pursue their own interests. I don't want your life to be destroyed. I want to help you. Will you let me?" Its gaze changed. It seemed to look into Dean´s very soul, reading him and giving him no chance to avoid its intensity. "I will not coerce you into giving an answer. But I will come again, to look out for you. And if you need me, just call me and I will hear you." It detached itself from Dean and slowly walked into the middle of the room.

"Wait," Dean whispered, the creature stopping in its tracks. "What's your name?" A small smile graced its face.

"Damion," it spoke and was gone, leaving behind a very confused Dean and a happily gurgling Sam.

* * *

An old mansion stood on the outskirts of the little town of Broken Arrow, where it'd been since the founding of the city. If you asked the local people, they would tell you many stories about ghosts and their hauntings inside the old mansion´s walls, making it very undesirable for any human to step onto its grounds. Nobody knew when it had been built. It just was, existing since everyone could remember like the background noises you weren't even aware of anymore. Encircling the wide grounds was a tall and intimidating fence with sharp tips and gaunt-looking human grimaces on poles, probably to scare the town´s youth away. Where the street and the fence met, a medieval iron portal blocked the way, and behind it the road ascended to the mansion atop the hill. In the distance, on the other side of the grounds, you were able to spot a forest with ever-green fir trees standing side by side, giving the impression of an insurmountable wall. When you reached the mansion, the street took a U-turn, in which middle an enormous fountain was placed. It only consisted of a figure of the Greek god of the sea, Poseidon, who stood there, immobile, raising his trident threateningly and with a thunderous expression on his face, as if he was about to bring his wrath down against the unsuspecting visitor.

If you made it that far and dared to enter the old house, you would step into a rather spacious entrance decorated with fine art on the walls and laid out with an expensive-looking red carpet. Two curved stairs led to an elegant mahogany portal which led further into the house. Leaning on the balustrade was a beautiful blonde woman wearing a white ball gown. Her curled hair fell onto her shoulders, framing her petite face with its large green eyes and sensual red lips. At the moment, she looked rather bored, twirling one of her curls around her finger.

Then, suddenly, a young man appeared out of thin air in front of her. The sudden appearance did not seem to surprise or shock the woman; her only reaction was to let go of her hair and to look at the newcomer.

"Damion!" she exclaimed, a smile gracing her face.

"Lilith," he answered shortly with a nod in her direction. The woman´s smile grew wider and her eyes flashed completely white for a moment.

"You have taken your time with the Winchester boys," she said, falling in at Damion´s side. "Something unexpected happened?"

"Nothing," Damion answered. "Gaining Dean´s trust took longer than anticipated. But I was able to heal Sam from the aftereffects of Azazel´s blood. Where did you get this vessel though? I thought young girls were your Modus Operandi?" Lilith flashed him a wide smile.

"She was already dead. Only the machines were keeping her alive," she explained, gliding her fingers over the balustrade. "And it is less suspicious this way. Everyone, be it friend or enemy, thinks I´ll be using some poor little girl, and therefore they will be looking for hints towards that end. But no one is looking for a recently-deceased comatose patient. And we have to avoid so many." Damion nodded, obviously accepting her explanation. Suddenly her face took a pensive expression.

"Do you think it will work?" she asked, back turned to Damion. "Our plan? Or is it already set up to fail?"

Damion seemed to think over her words. "I think", he began, "that the Winchester brothers will play an important role in the events that are yet to transpire. And it is our task to ensure we keep the upper hand until the end. If we do not let ourselves be blinded by arrogance, ignorance and hubris, we shall prevail." He took on of Lilith´s hands and guided her towards the closed doors.

"I like it when you´re in such a philosophical mood," she giggled. "It is more fun than when you´re brooding over those elaborate schemes of yours." And with that, the two stepped through doors which closed behind them, leaving the hall empty and void of evidence of the two powerful individuals who now plotted the fate of humankind.

* * *

AN: Hello everybody. This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. Here are some things I like to say:

1. English is not my mother language. Therefore if you find any mistakes, be it spelling or grammar, let me know and I´ll try to fix it (when I work out how everything works here).

2. I will change many, many things: Characters which were evil in the show can suddenly fight for the good guys or stay evil and the same goes for "good" characters. Because if I wouldn't change some things it would be Canon and therefore boring. But don't be afraid: If something isn't important for the plot of my story it will stay the same as you know it from the show.

3. I do not have a schedule for my updates. Sometimes they will come fast, sometimes it will take longer. It depends on my mood and on my real life (I have that, too).

4. I don't have a strict script to adhere to concerning the plot. So if you have a fancy idea how aforementioned plot could continue and it does not conflict with my already existing plans you may find it in future chapters.

Thank you for reading. Constructive critics are welcomed, flames will be ignored.


	2. Ghost Hunt And Reminiscing (Betaed)

John Winchester was a man of actions rather than words. He had to be, otherwise he would never have survived Vietnam or the hunts he went on since Mary´s death. Thinking of her caused a terrible, near-physical pain where his heart was. When he closed his eyes, he was still able to remember everything that had happened that fateful night – how he went into Sam´s nursery only to find the yellow-eyed demon grinning at him, feeding Sam his blood; the gargling sound that came from the ceiling; looking up to see his beautiful wife impaled there, her blood slowly dripping onto the ground while her face was warped into a mask of pain.

And suddenly, there were the flames consuming her while she screamed. Without thinking, he had snatched Sam from his crib and turned around, only to find Dean standing in the door frame. He looked at John with wide, green eyes, the Batman figure he had gotten as birthday present still clenched his hands. John still remembered how he had placed Sam into Dean´s arms and ordered him to leave the house, to take Sam and himself to safety. How he turned around again, only to see that the yellow-eyed demon had vanished and that the flames now completely encompassed the nursery, destroying everything. Destroying his wife.

He still hated himself for turning and running in that moment. Rationally, he knew that there was nothing he could have done, but he still blamed himself. Shaking his head, he tried to get rid of those depressing thoughts and concentrate on the task at hand.

John was currently at the local cemetery, searching for the grave of the girl whose ghost haunted the local school. While researching, John discovered that she had been harassed by other girls her age until it all went too far; they had slammed her head against the mirrors in the girl´s bathroom and killed her. Now, she took revenge: five of her tormentors already had been found dead in front of the bathroom mirror, pieces of glass rammed through their eyes.

John sighed and let the light of his flashlight float over the tombstones. The girl´s name was Stacey Dough and her grave had to be in the newer parts of the graveyard, since she had been buried only a few weeks ago.

John gripped his shotgun tighter, ready to fire its rock salt rounds should the girl´s ghost decide to attack him. The gravel creaked under the pressure of his boots and every few seconds John stopped, looking around with narrowed eyes and listening for someone or something that tried to sneak up on him.

A feeling of relief flooded through his body when he finally found Stacey´s grave. The earth which had been shovelled upon it still hadn't settled, building a small bump on which countless bouquets and condolences were laid and giving the impression that Stacey was loved by the whole town.

It did little to reflect the reality that she had been harassed by the other children, and that the adults had turned a blind eye towards her plight.

Down to business, John thought as he took the shovel from his back where he'd attached it in order to free both his hands for his flashlight and shotgun. In order to lay the ghost to rest, he had to salt and burn her remains to which she was anchored. And normally ghost didn't take it well when someone tried to force them into the afterlife. Not to speak of the locals who would instantly call the police if they notice someone digging up the grave of an eleven-year-old girl. And saying you were about to banish a ghost by burning her corpse wouldn't go well with the judge. Luckily for him, John never had to escape such a delicate matter and he wanted to keep up his track-record.

He laid his flashlight on the ground, positioning it so that its light illuminated the grave and started digging. The rhythmical movements – thrust, lift, throw aside – and the repetitive monotony of the task at hand soon began to lull John´s mind into a haze, but he constantly shook himself alert. He could not risk letting his guard down.

After half an hour, he finally hit the wood of the coffin and he brushed the last remnants of dirt from the surface. He looked around. He was only able to see a few meters, after that his surroundings were swallowed by the dark of the night. In the distance, John could see the weak lights of the street lamps losing their constant fight against the darkness. Not a single sound could be heard, even though the mains street of the town wasn't that far away. That eerie silence kept John on the edge, his eyes constantly wandering around; searching for any kind of threat, be it supernatural or not.

He opened the coffin by simply tearing the lid open, not bothering with trying to do it properly. When the opening in the coffin´s lid was big enough, John climbed out of the grave and started to pour salt on Stacey's remains.

Suddenly, a small breeze ran through John´s hair, despite the fact that it was a windless night. John jerked his head around. There in front of him, only a few meters away, stood the ghost of Stacey. Their eyes met, and John froze.

He still wondered who invented the notion that ghosts came only in transparent grey; sure they were transparent, but only if you looked closely enough. Otherwise, they still looked the same as they had the moment they died. In Stacey´s case, it meant that her shoulder-long brown hair still was matted with the blood from the big cut on her forehead and shattered glass stuck out of her eyes at different angles. Her face was distorted into a mask of fury and hate, her mouth twisted in a feral grin showing her blood-stained teeth. She wore the same clothes she was wearing when she was murdered: a white t-shirt with a green-eyed black cat on it, normal blue jeans and red ballerina flats. (This is a lot

Then, an ear-splitting scream left her lips and she flung herself at John. Without thinking, John threw himself aside, gripping his shotgun while doing so. He rolled to his feet and lifted the shotgun, trying to keep as calm as possible. John could feel his heart beating fast, the blood rushing in his ears. His senses, his instincts seemed to sharpen, adrenalin making his brain process everything faster than it normally would.

Stacey´s ghost came at him again with an inhuman screech. This time, John was prepared – levelling the shotgun at the ghost, he shot her in the chest. The ghost dispersed, the screeching stopped. A John ran towards the coffin, mind set on finishing the job. He took a matchbox out of one of his coat´s pocket and lit it; the moment the flame woke with sizzling sound, Stacey´s ghost materialized only a few meters away. Without losing any second, John threw the burning match in the open coffin. Stacy´s remains burst into flames, illuminating the grave´s surroundings in an eerie flickering light. The ghost´s screeches became louder and higher as it tried to reach John, but all in vain; the ghost, too, caught alight. More and more flames began to burst through its shape until the fire consumed it all. With a last scream, the ghost vanished, passing over into the afterlife.

John waited until the flames had burned the last of Stacey´s remains to ashes before burying the coffin afresh. His adrenalin was all used up and fatigue struck him. He just wanted to lie down and sleep, but he had to finish what he had begun. With his sons waiting in the motel room, Dean probably still awake and eagerly awaiting his arrival, John smiled and shoveled faster.

* * *

Dean starred at the place where Damion had stood mere seconds ago. His brain tried to process what had happened earlier, but he was still too confused, thousands upon thousands question in his mind: Who was he? Why did he help? Would he really come again? What if he had done something to Sammy?

Sam gleefully giggled in his arms. Because his baby brother was slowly becoming too heavy for Dean, he put him down on one of the beds, watching carefully so that he would not topple over one of the edges and onto the hard floor. Dean then climbed up on the bed to sit, his legs dangling since they were still too short to reach the ground. His fingers rubbed circles over his forehead, a gesture he had seen his father make when he was stressed. He did not know why – it didn't bring about a sudden revelation, after all – but Dean idolized his father and he had to have a reason for his gestures, didn't he?

Dean looked around the room, trying to figure out whether anything else had changed since Sammy had been healed. One of the first things his father had explained him about the Supernatural was its mastery in the arts of disguising, hiding and deceiving. He didn't want to wake up only to find a nasty surprise waiting for him.

While he assessed the room, he felt that the temperature had risen noticeably. Whereas some hours ago, his breath would have condensed to a thin layer of fog, he was now able to use his fingers without them shaking so heavily that it would have been a challenge to hold a mug. It seems that Damion had taken care of the low temperature, probably in order to give Dean and Sam both some sense of comfort. Dean liked it that the room was comfy and warm now – he couldn't deny that he appreciated it .

But still, the creature had to have some ulterior motive. What had he meant when he hinted that there were powers beyond him, watching their lives? Dean didn't even understand that sentence completely; it was way too complicated. Before Dean´s intensive thinking and worrying could turn into a headache, someone knocked at the door.

Dean tensed. "Who´s there?" he called out, trying to put confidence he did not have into his voice.

"Dean, it´s me," came the voice Dean instantly recognized as his father's. But he did not let it deter him from the usual routine his dad had impressed upon him. He jumped from the bed, avoiding waking up Sammy who had fallen asleep, and went to the kitchen where he took the package of salt. He poured it over the whole length of the door frame, strengthening the already existing salt line his father had made before he left for the hunt. He lifted the door mat and surveyed the devil's trap, checking for broken lines. When he was sure that everything was as it should be, he opened the door.

Leaning with one hand on the wooden door frame was the exhausted figure of John Winchester. His clothes were dirty, probably as a result of fighting some monster. He smelled of sweat which shone on his forehead and layers of earth and dust had settled over his clothing, especially on his boots. He held something in his right hand. The hunt seemed to have been rather exhausting and dirty.

Dean stepped back, letting his father enter the room. When neither the salt nor the devil's trap had any effect on his dad, and he noticed the silver crucifix his dad was holding, Dean finally let his guard down.

"Dad!" he exclaimed, glad that his father had made it back in one piece, and hugged him fiercely.

"Hey, son," his father answered, fatigue evident in his voice. "Anything happen here while I was gone?"

Dean hesitated. He knew that he should tell his father about the visitor he and Sammy had received while he was away, if only because Damion was something Supernatural and he shouldn't trust it. But it had healed Sam and taken care of the freezing temperatures. It had done no harm or anything he could consider evil. It made the situation better. Dean made a decision: he would not tell his father as long as Damion didn't threaten him or his brother. It wasn't as if they would see him again, was it? Damion said he would come again, but he probably wouldn't – nobody but their dad cared about them.

So Dean shook his head. His dad, oblivious to his internal debate, just nodded in acceptance and made his way towards Sammy. Carefully, he lifted the tiny body and placed him against his chest, supporting Sam with one hand. This action woke the little boy and, while still a little groggy, he smiled.

"There's my boy," he said as he patted Sam´s back, causing some burps making to pass Sam´s lips.

"You look better than when I left," his dad told Sam. "I knew all you needed was some rest. Has your brother taken good care of you?" Sam laughed, as if he understood what was said to him.

Dean´s heart was gripped by a warm feeling. Seeing his dad and his baby brother, both being by his side, made him temporarily forget his mother´s death, their peculiar situation and the constant uncertainty. It felt like they were a normal family. No supernatural threats hanging above their heads, no constant travelling in the backseat of the Impala, no dad who had to drink himself to sleep. He wished that time would just stop and let him stay in this moment for all eternity. In truth, Dean had silently wished for this countless times since their journey had begun. But although only nearly-six-years old, Dean knew that his wish would not come true, so he basked in this moment. It too would be gone sooner than he wanted.

* * *

In another part of the country, a young woman was currently sitting in a rather elegant armchair. It was upholstered with a wine red fabric, embroidered with a dark pattern of interlocking vines. On its arms, bands of gold made their way up to the back where they formed a complicated design of runes around the harmony of the vine´s patterns – so utterly perfectly made that one could completely lose oneself in following those patterns, trying to comprehend their depiction.

But the art´s allurement was lost on Lilith, who had her legs crossed and was running her finger over the edge of the glass of wine on the table next to her. Her expression pensive and deep in her thoughts, Lilith was the completely opposite of the old, sadistic, powerful lunatic of a demon known for possessing little girls and a knack for gruesome torture.

Lilith smiled. She was rather proud of the image she had slowly built up over the last few millennia. While many in Hell and on earth feared her, nobody thought her overly smart or cunning, not to mention rational thinking. She was a power-house, using her incredible might to achieve her ends, not her wits. Or so they thought. In truth, Lilith was even able to fool Crowley, the crossroad-demon, who himself was a master of deception and lies. Over a long time, Lilith thought that nobody was able to notice her mask, to look behind it and recognize her true nature. Her smile grew wider when she remembered the moment this illusion had been shattered. That was a feast she was immensely proud of.

* * *

_Lilith had withdrawn herself from the lower levels of Hell, entering her personal space. Or as far as you could name a space in Hell personal, because, unlike some human thought, Hell wasn't even a space. It was rather an illusion, maintained by the billions of tormented souls that occupied it. For over a millennia, Hell was depicted as place of fire, lava and brimstone, of black smoke constantly darkening the blood-red sky. And because billions believed Hell to be so, it became what the souls imagined it to be. Lilith was still able to remember a time when humans believed Hell to be an endless nothingness. It had been rather inconvenient and so she had welcomed the change to its current form._

_Back to the present, she pushed open the doors leading to the rooms she had claimed when they came into existence. Every demon around here would sense her presence and give the area a wide berth in order to avoid agitating her. Although she didn't really need a form here, Lilith usually went around disguised as a four year old red-haired girl in a pink dress with a red band with bow around her waistline and little freckles on her checks. Being tortured by something looking so innocent usually broke souls far faster than the monstrous appearances her fellow demons chose. Nearly as fast as Alistair´s skilfully crafted illusion, come to think of it, but Lilith´s main focus wasn't on torture so she wouldn't complain. With a snap of her fingers, a chair materialized and she sat down._

_She was about to will a glass of wine into existence (although it wouldn't have any flavor, for it was, just like the rest of Hell, just an illusion) when she noticed a change in the power pattern. Explaining to someone without any profound knowledge of magic how detecting another by means of power patterns was possible, though rather difficult. Lilith once tried to compare it to the weather pattern topside. Any magical creature could be depicted as a current of wind: beings without much power, like lower demons or everything humans dubbed as 'Supernatural' like werewolves or ghosts, were only small currents, while more powerful creatures, like pagan gods or exceptionally old witches, already could be described as storms and the real mighty creatures, like angels or the old demons like herself, were cyclones, creating holes in the pattern and sucking in the small currents. And because Lilith was so familiar with the power pattern, she instantly recognized the changes happening here._

_Something powerful was coming. Something maybe even more powerful than herself. She'd barely finished her observation when the source of the disruption materialized in front of her. The creature, for she did not exactly know what it was, had chosen the form of a young, human male. The only feature that gave him away was his eyes –__holding cat-like pupils surrounded by flames._

_"Oh, someone came to play," Lilith said as she clapped with her hands and played her role of an over-excited young girl. "We can have a tea party! With blood as tea! Blood tastes so much better! Please, please!" The creature didn't even blink, just starred at her with those eyes of flames._

_"A tea party you say?" it drawled, not seeming to be deterred by Lilith´s antics. "While I consider this a rather ingenious idea, allow me to voice a slightly different way of getting to know each other."_

_"I like new ideas!" Lilith exclaimed gleefully. "I recently had this idea about the best way of turning a human body inside out. It was great fun…for me at least."_

_"See! New ideas can lead to great pleasure," the boy confirmed, and Lilith couldn't shake the thought that he knew she was just playing. Any other being she knew of would have already either lost its nerves and screamed at her or tried to kill her. Something which, obviously, no one had had succeeded in so far._

_"You see," the creature continued. "If two people have the same aim and form an alliance between themselves, they stand a better chance of succeeding, regardless of how the odds are stacked against them. Those two people have a better chance of surviving the whole game!" If Lilith had had a real body in this moment, she would have inhaled sharply and her whole body would have gone cold. But because Hell was not physical, only the change in the power pattern was an indicator of her mood__, a sudden maelstrom coming into existence__. Normally, she was able to control it, but not now. Not after what the creature had said._

_"I see," the creature smiled, obviously recognizing what had happened. "that you have understood. Now, will you drop the act so we can converse in a more…civilized manner?" It was disguised as a question, but Lilith knew a command when she heard one. She straightened herself._

_"The only reason I allow you to still be alive is that you intrigue me," she threatened and the creature smiled as if it knew that Lilith wanted to hear what it had to say. _

"_But alas, I will give you a chance to explain. Why should I help you?" she asked, honestly interested in the answer. "You obviously know so much already."_

_The creature just kept on smiling. "We have something in common, Lilith," it began, and so started one of the most prosperous, dare she say,__friendship__Lilith ever had._

* * *

Lilith came back out of her memories when she heard the door being closed. Damion was rather strange, sometimes choosing to walk instead of teleporting straight to his destination.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, standing in front of the door.

"Just reminiscing," she answered. "About our first encounter."

His gaze softened. "It was a memorable occasion," he simply stated.

"Yes," Lilith whispered, sure that he was able to hear her. "It was indeed."

* * *

AN: And another chapter finished. I'm on a roll! I try to create a new Lilith, because I really like her character, but unfortunately she is just your average lunatic demon in the show and I really disliked that. Furthermore I have to say writing a nearly-six-years-old Dean is rather difficult. I try to avoid big words and complicated thought patterns which a six-years-old should not be able to express, but, sadly, it was long ago when I was six myself. Don't know when the next chapter will come. Hope to see you again!


	3. Memories of New York (Betaed)

Susie Barnable wasn't what you would consider beautiful: her untamed, earth-brown curls were too dull; her face with its pointed nose, askew mouth, too-big lips and little brown eyes was too long, and combined with her lanky body gave her an almost horse-like appearance.

She tried to hide her features behind make-up, which only made her face look stranger: the bright lipstick over-accentuated her lips and the thick black eyeliner around her eyes, which coalesced nearly in the middle of her temple, only made her eyes look smaller. She wore a grey blouse with a hideous embroidery pattern which gave the impression that a toddler had taken a needle and thread to it. The black denim jeans didn't fit right, making it look as if Susie had shoehorned herself into them when she dressed that morning.

Her shoes, on the other hand, were a work of art: complete white lines of small diamonds twirled across the surface, as though they were straight from a Disney princess movie. If someone were to ask, Susie would always tell how the shoes were gifted to her by her deceased mother, retelling the story of how she and her mother had gone shopping and Susie instantly had fallen in love with the shoes, begging her mother to purchase the pair.

Now, Susie sat behind the reception desk at the motel. Long gone were the dreams of moving to Boston to study economics at Harvard. The cancer which had devoured her mother from within had had to be treated with expensive medication, leaving the family behind broke. So Susie had found herself in the town she grew up in, having achieved nothing in her life. Sighing, because, if she was honest, nothing out of the ordinary happened in the halls of the Runway-Motel, Susie rifled through her purse, looking for her nail file – a rather difficult task, since Susie´s handbag was less than neat and well organized. Old receipts, bills, handkerchiefs (used and unused), the tabloid she wanted to read when she had finished her work and, of course, her wallet contributed to a chaos her best friend Martha had dubbed the 'Susie Shambles'.

"There you are!" Susie exclaimed triumphantly, when she finally found the object of her desire. "You tried to hide but your efforts were in vain!"

If Susie had looked up in this moment, she would have noticed white fog billowing from the air conditioning. But she didn't, and was totally unprepared when it suddenly sprang at her and forced its way through her mouth and nose down her throat. Susie´s last thought before she lost consciousness was the mental note to buy a new nail file, because her old one had become too dull.

* * *

Of all the meat-suits she had worn over the centuries, Lilith had to admit that her current one definitely wouldn't be enlisted in her Top 10. Still, it wouldn't arouse suspicion, or at least not the persons that mattered. Straightening herself, Lilith went to the refrigerator, removing a soda and a bottle of water. Turning back, a bowl of sweets on the desk caught her attention.

Mmh, it couldn't hurt to take just a few, she thought and grabbed a handful of candies, not bothering to check exactly which sweets she had taken. Content with her choice of food, she entered the long hallway leading to the rooms. Lilith knew that John Winchester currently was out, researching for new hunts. She snorted. _Research! Probably visiting the local bar, drinking himself into the oblivion because he isn't strong enough to get over his wife´s death._

Finally, Lilith reached the door to the Winchester´s room. She knew they had measures in place to recognize and repel Supernatural creatures, like salt lines and devil traps, but she did not worry about those. She was far too old and too powerful to be affected by such child´s play: nothing short of special runes would contain her, and nothing but an altered exorcism would exorcise her. Besides, she doubted that the oldest Winchester even knew she existed. That fool didn't even know Azazel´s name, for God´s sake, despite the fact that he'd made it his life goal to kill the demon! When she knocked on the door, it took some time before Dean, voice dampened by the door, answered.

"Who´s there?" he called through the door. Lilith knew that she had to be convincing if she wanted Dean to allow her access to the room.

"Room service," she said in her nicest voice. "We had some complaints about the heating not working last night and I'm checking to see if everything is alright, offering food and drink as compensation." She waited.

"M´dad said we´re not allowed to let anyone in," came Dean´s reply. Lilith suppressed the urge to curse.

"It´s okay, sweetheart," she cooed. "Just open the door and I´ll stay outside to give you the things. And you could tell me if your heater´s working at the moment." Again, she waited. Obviously not finding any fault in her logic, Dean opened the door, albeit hesitantly, allowing Lilith a first gaze on the young boy. His hair was dirt-blond, cut short and a mess, standing in all possible directions. His green eyes studied her warily, as if he tried to decide whether she was a threat or not. Freckles, concentrating around his nose, created a sharp contrast to his rather pale skin. He was wearing a black T-shirt with yellow Batman crest on the chest and a worn jeans and socks. One of his hands was still on the door knob.

"My, you are a fine boy," Lilith said. "Is your daddy around?" Dean shook his head.

"What!" Lilith exclaimed, covering her mouth with her free hand. "That doesn't matter. Then you can have all those sweets and the drink all for yourself." She smiled and extended the treats towards him. Dean´s gaze flickered towards it. Lilith hoped he noticed her hands crossing the salt line. (It seemed he had, for his whole posture relaxed.)

"Thanks," he murmured. "´s great." Lilith gave him another smile while he took the sweets and the soda.

"Am I allowed to come in? I just have to look if the heater is working. We don't want anyone to freeze tonight, do we?" she asked. Dean seemed to think about it and apparently concluded that she wasn't threatening enough to be a danger toward him or his brother. Still so innocent, despite having been through so much already.

"But only looking?" he asked for affirmation.

"Only looking," Lilith assured him. "I´ll go in, look around and then I´ll leave."

Dean nodded and stepped aside. With a few steps, Lilith stood in the middle of the run down motel room. Even as a demon who did not have the capacity to understand love or any other pleasant feelings (although she did believe that she had a kind of friendship going on with Damion), it was beyond her why Winchester Sr. left his sons staying in this hideous room. At least he could have taken them with him, if he really was researching in the local library and not drinking himself into a stupor. She finished her way towards the heater and bent down in order to gain access to the device. Seeing that Lilith had effortlessly crossed the devils trap, Dean´s whole posture had softened, albeit he still followed her every move.

"It seems like a valve just needs adjusting," Lilith said, hoping it would make some kind of sense. For all her millennia of living, she'd never had to repair a broken motel heater. "I´ll just readjust it and then everything should be in working order again." She made a show of turning various valves but in reality she just willed the heater to work again with her magic. When the heater began to hum quietly, Lilith straightened up and turned around only to see Dean standing in front of one of the beds. Behind him on the mattress, sleeping, was the figure of his little brother.

"Oh, you have a little brother," Lilith cooed. She wanted to take a step forward, although she stopped herself when she noticed Dean tensing up, obviously ready to defend his brother. _Only four and already such a hero. That will make a great blackmail material. Already indoctrinated that your brother is of much greater value than yourself, aren't you?_

"What's his name?" she asked instead.

"Sammy," Dean murmured.

"And you are looking out for him?" Lilith said. "Aren´t you such a good boy? What would I have given for a brother like you when I was young… But alas, this time is long gone." Dean just stared at her. He did not seem to be a person who would just talk to someone just for talking's sake.

"Then I do hope the rest of your stay will be more pleasant," she said, giving him an encouraging smile. "I´ll be on my merry way. If you need something, anything, then just come to me and I´ll help you as best as I can." With that, she walked out of the door and back to the reception area. Behind her, she could hear the soft click of the door closing.

When Lilith sat on the chair behind the reception area, she contemplated what she had learned about the Winchester boys. Dean was a mistrusting boy who had to take care of his younger brother, who he absolutely adored and protected, when his father left them for a hunt. Although not living the life of the lucky and rich, he still maintained an aura of innocence, but already had begun to construct himself a mask for the world to see. Lilith was curious how the mask would change in time: would it be the lovable and caring older brother or the daredevil with a not-caring attitude towards everything but cute little Sam?

Sam…him, Lilith couldn't really figure out, probably because he was still a baby. But she had seen the aftereffects of Azazel´s blood on the young boy´s soul. Damion may have been able to heal Sam from the physical effects but the marks on his soul, albeit only weak, would stay there and be perceivable for everyone who had the power to read souls. She wondered if he would still acquire powers or if the amount of time the demon blood had been in his body was too short to change his mind and body in such a way. Lilith shrugged. She would just wait and see.

She looked around. Nobody lingered in the entrance hall. It was the perfect moment to leave her meat-suit and search for Damion – she craved intelligent conversation. With this thought, Lilith ejected herself out of Susie´s body, leaving behind a rather confused woman who'd lost fifteen minutes.

* * *

In the heart of Manhattan, one of humanity´s pinnacles of architecture stood tall and proud. The Empire State Building, which had been the world´s highest architectonical structure until 1972, allowed visitor's to stand on a platform where they could behold nearly the whole city. The Hudson River, slowly flowing through the jungle that were the skyscrapers of New York, looked like a band of brown, with red and golden blotches where the evening´s sun reflected off the surface as it dipped beneath the horizon, casting the skyscrapers into dark shadows. It looked like something out of an impressionist picture: truly an awe-inspiring sight.

But New York never slept, so vehicles still moved noisily around in the streets; the crowd still bustled, slowly changing from business people on their way home to the city´s party people who wanted to try the new restaurant or watch the current blockbuster in one of the countless movie theaters.

But none of that to Damion, who currently sat on one of the building´s jutties. He let his legs dangle above the abyss, seemingly having no fear of falling for he just sat there, looking down on the streets with an amused expression.

Damion sometimes truly wondered about human nature: here they were, tiny, mortal creatures with so many flaws, trying to live their lives. One woman he could see planned to drink herself until she forgot that her friend had left her for some younger girl. Another man, hidden by the shadows of his surroundings, contemplated whether or not killing his wife was worth the life-sentence in prison. Three women wandered around, just searching for the next new drug to help them escape their meaningless lives. How had they come so far, despite their nature? Was it their inner struggle to always reach new heights, to always be better than their next? Or were they aware of their imperfections and tried to hush them up by partaking in these sinful activities? When he looked down again, he let the memories connected to this place surface.

* * *

_Times Square was always a flurry of faces. Thousands walked upon his pavement every day, something that even the first Great War 25 years ago hadn´t been able to change; keeping their heads down, mind set on reaching their destination as soon as possible. Only a few took their time and looked around, trying to intake their surroundings before they too would be washed away by the masses._

_For the last few years, Times Square had become more chaotic than usual: news about the war on the Japanese and later the Third Reich made its way around and now everyone was buzzing around, trying to get the latest news about it._

_'Humans and their wars,' Damion thought as he walked past a twelve-year-old who was currently advertising the newspaper he wanted to sell in a loud voice. 'Thousands perish in the heat of the battles and even more burn while they cover their homes with flames. And for what? Only so they can bathe themselves in their own self-righteousness!' _

_He kept on walking, passing a recruitment office where crude and polemic posters tried to persuade young men to join the army. A long line of aspirants had gathered itself in front of the office, nearly reaching around the next street corner. They consisted of the type human Damion expected to find in front of such establishments: young, muscular men who fiercely believed in the superiority of their country and the propaganda it was spreading. Damion sneered._

_'Will you still be so excited when bullets are being fired upon you? When your comrades are dying left and right like flies, and their death screams are still keeping you awake at night? Of course you won´t. I have already heard enough of you cursing the day you decided to join the army'._

_He was just about to cross the street when he noticed a young man, standing in the queue, who just didn't fit in. He was rather short, thin and gawky; the complete opposite to the other men. Damion´s interest was drawn._

_"What 's your name?" he asked the boy, whose face took a rather confused look. He obviously hadn't expected some man to ask him for his name._

_"Steve Rogers,"__ he said in a timid voice, apparently finding no harm in answering a stranger's question._

_"Say Steve," Damion continued. "Why do you want to join the army?"_

_Steve thought about his answer. He seemed rather nervous, his eyes constantly roaming, looking everywhere except Damion´s face. "Because I want to defend my home country. Because I want to fight against evil." With his answer, it seemed he also found confidence: his back straightened and his eyes bore directly into Damion´s own._

_"Isn´t the perception of evil in the eye of the beholder?" Damion asked. "How do you know if you are on the right side?"_

_"Because the Japanese and the Germans attacked first without provocation. They killed thousands of innocents and they will continue if we don't stop them!" Steve exclaimed fiercely._

_"But aren't you going to do the same? What difference is there between you and a Japanese soldier beside your perception of good and evil?" Damion wondered aloud and watched as Steve´s face slowly turned red and the veins in his temple began throbbing._

_"How can you say something like that!" he accused. "How can you just stand there and say something like that instead of trying to defend your home country?"_

_"Simple," Damion answered calmly. "I have no home country." With that, he turned around and crossed the street, leaving behind a bewildered Steve._

* * *

_Damion was walking down the streets of war-torn New York. The fight for independence had left his mark on the once-beautiful city. Empty houses, broken windows and fallen carriages which had been used as cover by both British soldiers and independence fighters littered the streets. In the distance, gunshots echoed. In the middle of the street he was currently walking on laid a body of a man, an independence fighter if his attire was an indicator to go by. His side was a bloody mess and his breath came in ragged pants. He only had a few moments left. Damion knelt down._

_"Was it worth it?" he asked. "Was it really worth your life?" The man tilted his head towards Damion and looked him in the eyes._

_"Yes," he coughed. "It was…worth it."_

_"But why?" Damion inquired further. "You could have lived a peaceful life whether Britain would keep control over the colonies or not."_

_"Sometimes," the man began, summoning up his remaining strength. "You have to fight for something…bigger than yourself. Sometimes you have to…do what is right instead of what is easy. I want to leave a legacy for my…children. I want them to have a choice. Isn't that what being human is about? The pursuit…of something greater than yourself? Leaving…the world behind knowing you have…left your mark?"_

_"That I cannot answer," Damion said truthfully, but the man hadn´t heard him. He had already died._

* * *

_Damion stood on a cliff, gazing over what would later be known as the Hudson River. Behind him was a seemingly endless forest that offered food and shelter for the animals inhabiting the island. Damion liked this part of the land. Sometimes he thought that God must have paid an extra amount of attention when he created it: the curves of the river, the green of the forest and the endless land behind it, promising adventure and wealth for those who dared to enter – they were all beautiful._

_He could feel a presence coming near the place he was. He debated whether he should stay or vanish. He decided to stay; maybe the newcomer would be of interest. When aforementioned person finally came into his field of view, Damion recognized her as a shaman of the local tribe. She was old, her hair already grey and her face was pervaded by deep wrinkles, speaking of wisdom accumulated over long and hard years of living. She wore typical attire for her people: earth-brown with colorful accents all over the fabric._

_"It seems that I am not the only one who appreciates the view up here," she said, not deterred in the slightest by Damion´s appearance. "It is nice to know that humans aren't the only ones who treasure Mother Nature." She stepped at his side._

_"Indeed," he acknowledged, "It truly is a work of art." They were both quiet for a while, creating a companionable atmosphere while they watched the birds circling above the water where waves and the sun´s reflection created a magnificent pattern of light._

_"Say, do you consider yourself wise?" Damion asked the woman._

_"No", she stated simply. "I am just a part of something bigger. I may be old and I may have experiences no one else has, but that just makes me experienced, not wise. Wisdom isn't something you can measure by means of age or experience."_

_Damion smiled. "A woman after my own heart," he chuckled before becoming serious again. "Are you able to search for something, without knowing what it is you're searching for?"_

_The shaman smiled and her whole face seemed to soften, making her appear much younger. "I would consider it a journey," she answered carefully. "A journey to gather new experiences, to strengthen mind and body. If you finally know what you are looking for, you are prepared for it." She fell silent for a while.__Damion seemed to contemplate about her answer, his expression pensive, while his eyes roamed over the landscape in front of him._

_"Maybe", she continued, "when you have found what you are looking for, you can visit me and tell me all about your journey. It has been some time I last heard a story which enthralled me until its end."_

_"I will," Damion promised._

* * *

Damion was plucked from his memories when someone landed beside him.

"Lilith," he greeted the demon. "Where have you been?"

"Visiting your Winchesters," she shrugged. "Such big destinies for such tiny humans."

"They will grow," Damion said. "And they will suffer and fear, but also love and rejoice. When the time comes, they will be ready. Be assured of this. They didn't recognize you?" Lilith gave him an innocent look, as though he had suggested that she was a cherub.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "I was disguised. And they probably aren't even aware of my existence." She sat down beside him and looked down.

"What is it you find so fascinating about humans?" she asked. "They´re so…frail."

"But nevertheless they have prevailed over the millennia," Damion simply stated.

"Only because neither heaven nor hell have made any advances," Lilith countered. "If they chose to do that, these humans would be annihilated within days."

"Then they are lucky that it did not happen already," Damion said. "Come on, let´s depart. I have two brothers to visit and you…" He let the end of the sentence hang in the air.

"I´ll do what I always do," Lilith finished for him and then both of them vanished.

* * *

**AN:** Her some things I want to say:

Any mention of war relating issues are neither my own opinion nor a correct presentation of reality. They have been written with the dramatic effect in mind. Concerning the pace of the story: Currently I have to build up trust between Dean and Damion, therefore the pace is rather slow. When I have their relationship the way I want it, I will make some time-skips. Furthermore I have edited the last chapters and made Dean and Sam one year older each. So if you find a spot where I have forgotten to edit it, please let me know.


	4. At Heavens Edge (Betaed)

The Winchesters already had moved on when Damion next appeared in the motel room. Everything was neat and tidy again, or at least as neat and tidy you could make this room without completely renovating it.

He sighed. Now he had to start the search for them again. It wasn't that it was an arduous task for him, not in the slightest, but he would prefer it if things would stay the same for a while. It would make executing his plans less risk-prone.

Without a thought, he vanished again, only to reappear on a hill at the edge of the town. Concealing himself from every mortal´s perception, he began to search out Dean Winchester. When Damion had visited him, he had taken an extensive look at the young boy´s soul. It was a sight to behold: although already having been gone through so much, it still shone brighter than any other soul Damion had encountered before. If it hadn´t interfered with the purpose of his visit, he would have gazed at it much longer, basking in its radiating, warm glow. Regardless, he had still looked closely enough to be able to imprint the unique signature of Dean's soul on his memory, and it was for this signature that he was currently searching.

He widened his field of perception, casting his mind over his surroundings, further and further away. He could perceive every soul in his inner eye scurrying around like a hive of ants, completely oblivious to the fact they were insignificant parts of something much bigger. When he finally found Dean´s soul, a bright beacon amongst the weak flickers of his fellow souls, he smiled. He was currently in Colorado, not far away from Damion´s present position. Distance didn't really matter, anyway: now that he knew approximately where the Winchesters were heading, he could keep an eye out for them.

But meeting Dean again would have to wait until he was alone, for Damion had absolutely no desire to meet Winchester Sr., so he whisked himself away.

* * *

Lilith currently wandered around a shopping mall somewhere in Virginia – with no intention of actually buying anything, of course, since she was able to conjure any object of her desire. Rather, she liked the atmosphere of the building. Human nature at its finest: the ruthless and sometimes violent pursuit of one´s personal desire, out to make no-one but themselves happy. In Lilith´s opinion, if you wanted to discover humanity´s true nature you didn't need to look into the universities or parliaments all over the world – you didn't need to go that far. Here, in its temples of consumption, every human revealed who they really were: greedy, self-serving and reckless individuals whose first priority was always the satisfaction of their own personal needs.

Today, Lilith had clothed her meat-suit in a more casual manner: close-fitting blue jeans with black high-heels which emphasized her long legs and a blood-red blouse with white flowers sewn on it. It caught the attention of quiet a few men wandering the hall and she had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud when one of them was reprimanded by his furious girlfriend. She didn't even flinch when Damion materialized next to her without even a blink from the surrounding humans.

"Back already?" she inquired, her brows furrowed.

"The Winchesters are currently traveling," Damion answered. "Until John again leaves Dean and Sam to fend for themselves, I have to be patient. We should not hasten, for this endeavour is too important to fail." He stepped around a mother and her crying toddler.

"Perfect," Lilith said when he had joined her again. "That means we can have some special time!" She giggled. She may not have been the insane demon everyone thought her to be, but sometimes she couldn't help but behave like a teenage girl. It was more fun than being serious all the time, like Damion seemed to be like.

"Isn´t that the term humans usually use when referring to sexual intercourse?" he asked in serious voice. "Why should we partake in such frivolous activities in this public place?"

Lilith was taken aback. He couldn't be serious, could he? He had to know what she meant: nobody who spent the majority of their existence on earth could be that clueless. When she saw the slightest inclination of a smile at the corner of his mouth, she knew that he understood.

"Wasn't it you that advocated the notion of shopping as having been invented by Lucifer himself before he was imprisoned in his cage in order to make humans desperate and more prone to make a deal with crossroad-demons to get the object of their desire?" he asked in mocked interest.

"But now I advocate the notion of you being too serious all the time and in need of relaxation," Lilith explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Furthermore, I once was a woman and therefore I still have the urge to claim clothes and jewellery as my own, even though I do not necessarily need it. And, after spending millennia in boredom or doing rather…unique tasks, I don't want to relinquish the opportunity to do something without an ulterior motive." She flashed him a smile.

"Indeed, it must be essential part of the female character if thousands years of Hell weren't able to erase it from you," Damion said, deadpanned.

"Who are you and what did you do with the mysterious being I allied myself with?" Lilith asked in mock shock. "Because the Damion I know does not joke…at least as far as I know."

Damion just gave her a blank look. "Just because I choose not to joke all the time doesn't mean I lack a sense of humour…but I was told to use my humour in small doses, otherwise I would 'damage the goods'."

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody important." Damion's tone indicated that it was anything but.

Lilith just took his hands and led him into a clothing store, knowing that it was pointless to press further. If Damion didn't want to tell, she wouldn't be able to make him.

"You need new clothes," she stated. "You can´t always walk around in this!" Some men in the clothing shop, obviously dragged in there by their girlfriends, looked at him with pity.

"I still cannot discern why we must acquire new wardrobe in…this way," Damion said doubtfully as Lilith wandered through the aisles, choosing clothes at random. "We have…other means to do so."

"Because I say so," Lilith shot back. "And besides, otherwise it would be boring." She held a blue T-shirt in front of him, eying it critically. "Yes, you are definitely a 'blue-person'." She tossed it on the pile she already had accumulated. "And because I want to see you squirm." Her smile became feral and if Damion had been a mortal man, he would have gulped in fear. But he wasn't and therefore just followed Lilith while she mumbled to herself.

"I will not change in this establishment", Damion said with disdain in his voice, eying the long line in front of the changing rooms.

"You don't have to," Lilith said. "If the clothes do not fit we just make them!" And with that she was on her way to the cash register.

"Dear God, what have I got involved in," Damion sighed, following her.

"Maybe you´ll find what you are always searching for."

Damion halted in his motions. He stopped his gaze from wandering around, instead focused it on the demon in front of him. His face became an emotionless mask, eerie similar to a marble statue, while his posture became more rigid.

"Why do you think I would be in search of something?" he asked her in serious voice.

"Oh, come on!" Lilith exclaimed. "It´s obvious! You're always traveling around, even looking at everything in this serious manner, as if the object of your interest would hold all the answers you seek. And then there are all those philosophical discussions we had. I bet you even think in such a philosophical manner. You don't need to be the first demon to be able to discern that." She looked at another item, this time in badly hidden disdain.

"But I don't think you´ll find anything interesting here; I mean they sell pink clothes," she said in light voice. After a pause, she added, "And t-shirts with 'I´m a Belieber' logos. Have you considered searching Panama? I´ve heard it´s beautiful there around this time." And with that Lilith led the conversation back to where they were both comfortable with.

* * *

The motel wasn't as run down as the one Dean and Sam had stayed the last time, Damion mused whilst standing outside of said building. It was painted in a lavender-like colour, giving the whole building a Mediterranean flair. The flowers placed on the windows sills were in all kind of colours, giving the place an aura of peace and calmness.

"How may I help you?" the young lady behind the reception desk asked when he approached her. She was rather good-looking with a lean, but muscular, body; smooth and hazel hair with eyes in the same color.

"You see," Damion began. "I'm looking for my uncle and his two sons. Could you perhaps help me find them?"

"Sure I can help you," the woman assured. "We currently have only one such combination. They´re in Room 104. Just go outside, turn left and then just count the numbers."

"Thank you." Damion flashed her a smile which she returned in kind. He turned around and followed the woman´s directions. He didn't want to teleport directly into the room – he knew that it would further Dean's mistrust for him, because it would focus on the fact that he wasn't human. If he was to win Dean´s trust, he had to appear as human as possible.

Finally in front of Room 104´s door, Damion stopped and contemplated on how to proceed from here. Simply knocking and hoping Dean would open the door wouldn't work, for Dean´s ingrained mistrust and hate for all things Supernatural would stop him from doing so.

But then it appeared to Damion like the sun in the morning and he had to hold back a devious smile. He knocked at the door twice and then pushed it open with his magic. To an outsider, it would appear as if the door hadn't been closed properly in the first place and the pressure of Damion´s knocking had pushed it open. No magic at all and no need for Dean to answer.

Damion stepped over threshold in the room. It was rather cosy. The room was designed with many different shades of brown. The walls were painted in a sandy colour with a few stripes in dark brown as accent; the bed linens were such a dark brown that they bordered on black. On one of those beds, Dean and Sam were sitting, faces turned towards Damion.

"Hello Dean," Damion greeted. Dean´s whole posture was rigid and he had placed himself in front of his younger brother. It seemed to be his usual _modus operandi_ – always protecting his younger brother. But Damion could see that Dean wasn't as tense as he had been when they had first met. Maybe Dean had concluded that, if Damion hadn´t attempted to harm them the first time, he wouldn't do so the second time. Or maybe he was just exhausted from the long car ride.

"I did say I would visit again, didn't I?" Damion took a few steps into the room, conscious that the older Winchester brother followed his every move. He looked at the two.

"I hope Sam is okay, after the whole ordeal I went through to heal him?" Damion asked and looked at the toddler who starred at him, not with fear, but curiosity in his hazel eyes. He did not make any advances towards either of them, for it would only make Dean do something stupid, like trying to hit him.

"You won´t talk to me?" Damion quipped. Dean just kept on starring. "Then I'll just sit down over there and keep to myself." He strode towards the place he had indicated, conjured himself a chair and sat down. Dean and Sam still stared at him. Damion chuckled when he remembered another situation quite like this one.

* * *

_He was standing at the edge of __Heaven__,__ looking down on earth. What a beautiful creation it was! The enormous ocean, filled with so much life, reflected the light from stars and sun alike, making the whole planet seem to glow in a magnificent, pure blue. __The lands that dotted its surface __were many different shades of green, interrupted by blotches of brown and grey where deserts and mountain ranges disrupted the seemingly endless plant life. Above it, the movement of the clouds created pattern of white circles over the surface of the whole planet. One might've thought all those different colours would clash, but quite the opposite was the case: everything felt like it belonged, like it was a small part of an awe-inspiring whole._

_Damion felt at peace, a state of being he did not often experience. It would end as soon as somebody noticed him standing here – and the moment came too soon. _

_Damion felt a presence coming near. __But it wasn't as strong as he would expect from this place´s inhabitants. Not even strong enough to pierce through the veil hiding him from any prying eyes. __When the presence approached where Damion was standing, he caught his first glimpse of the being he now shared his space with. It had taken the form of a child, meaning that it still thought of itself as such. It, or rather he, had unruly black hair__and was currently facing Damion. He wore a blue jumper and black jeans, both looking rather new, but that didn't mean anything. At the present time, the boy was bending over heaven´s edge, eagerly looking down on earth. Seeing that the boy would be no threat to Damion, even if he called for help, he decided to reveal himself._

_"You have to tread carefully around here, otherwise you're in danger of falling," Damion said in a low voice. With a short cry, the child threw himself back from the edge, stumbling._

_"Fear not," Damion said. "I will not harm you, and I do not have any ill will towards __you." __The child just stared at him with __his unnatural bright blue eyes__, radiating confusion but also giving him an innocent aura. When Damion reached out, the boy instantly flinched away._

_"I apologize for startling you," Damion said, trying to calm the distressed boy. "I just wondered about you. It is not often your kind ventures out here to the __Edges__, not since the Great Fall. So why is a fledgling as young as you here at all place without supervision?" The boy´s eyes stopped from constantly moving around, he stopped fidgeting with his fingers and he locked his gaze on Damion. Seeing that, Damion continued speaking. "Personally, I come to this place because it allows me to watch earth in its entire splendour. It reminds me of how insignificant and small I am in comparison to the Creation, and it fills me with pride and gratitude that I am allowed to be part of it." Damion paused for a few moments. He stared down on the planet, his gaze unfocused, oblivious to the boy being enraptured by his __voice__._

_"And sometimes," Damion whispered, "it makes me forget everything I lost all those years ago. It reminds me that there are still some things worthy out there." He snapped out of his dazed state, back into reality. "What about you?"_

_"I just like it," the boy said timidly, looking up at Damion as if he was afraid of the older doing something terrible to him. "I like that nearly everything is blue out there. I know they say that everything is equally worthy of our worship, but I just like blue more than the other colours." With every word he spoke, he saw that Damion did not take affront for what he was saying and his confidence seemed to grow._

_"I have a confession to make," Damion said to the boy in conspiratorial voice. "I, too, prefer blue over other colours. It just has something…calming and eternal, you could say." The boy nodded._

_"That's exactly what I think," he exclaimed and a small and hesitant smile graced his features. "But every time I say it, the others give me those looks as if something was wrong with me." His face was shadowed by an expression of sadness._

_"Don't be sad," Damion said, trying to brighten up the little boy. "If your father doesn't want you the way you are now, would he have had created you this way? Sometimes even the tiniest things lead to something great. Maybe this is one of those tiny things." The boy´s eyes grew larger and larger the further on Damion went with his argument._

_"Is it like the fish?" he asked in amazement._

_"What fish?" Damion asked._

_"When I was at the Edges and when I looked down on earth I saw a fish, trying to haul himself out of the sea and then Gabriel was there and said I had to watch out for this fish because there were great plans made for him," the boy exclaimed, trying to express himself with big hand gestures._

_"Then maybe it is like with said fish," Damion said, laying one hand upon the boy´s shoulder. This time he did not flinch back. "But only time will tell. Only time. I hope you watched the fish with your full attention." The boy nodded in pride and Damion smiled. __But then he felt other presences nearing.__It was as if a little pressure was suddenly added on his shoulders, becoming stronger the nearer this presence came. Damion sighed. He didn't want to be discovered here at all places; not when it could lead to a fight._

_"I fear our time has come to an end," he said and the boy´__s mood subdued. His shoulders sacked and his gaze dropped.__ "But before I go, may I know your name?" Damion strode to the __Edge of Heaven__, looking down on earth._

_"Castiel," the boy answered. "My name is Castiel." And with these words, __Damion descended __down to earth. _

* * *

Damion's trip down memory lane was disrupted when he noticed Sam moving on the bed. The boy, already burbling nonsense speech, would be talking soon. Dean watched his brother, making sure he wouldn't fall from the edge of the bed.

"I once knew a boy like you," Damion said softly, and Dean´s gaze snapped back to him. "He didn't have to care for his brother, like you have to, but he was always curious, always asking questions. I know you have those, too, although you don't ask them. Because, let´s be honest, who´s there to give you the answers? Maybe one day your brother will, or maybe your father, but that's unlikely, isn't it?" Dean still stared at him with those green orbs of his. "I can´t say that I possess an answer to every question have, but I pride myself on being very knowledgeable. I will answer as far as I am able." Damion finished and waited for Dean´s reaction.

"Can you tell a story?" Dean asked finally after a few minutes. It was just a whisper, nothing more than a small breeze in the mighty currents that were the world, but Damion was still able to hear it and he smiled.

"I will," he said. "But, why do you want me to tell you two a story?" He was really interested. Maybe his father did not tell him stories anymore since his mother´s death, or maybe it had always been his mother´s job to tell him those. From the way Dean was raised, Damion had expected to be asked different questions, about the Supernatural, maybe about the demon that had killed his mother, but not for a story.

"Because I want a story," Dean replied simply. "I don't know many."

"Then I will comply with your request," Damion said. "I will tell you the story of Adam and Eve. How it truly happened." He stopped for a few seconds, making sure Dean was listening. The boy had laid down beside his brother, his arms supporting his head, so that he could listen to the story in a more comfortable position. "As you know Adam and Eve were the first humans created by God and they were allowed to indwell in Paradise, the Garden of Eden. Never did they have to suffer, never to hunger, to thirst, to desire, for they were God´s beloved children and he was a caring father. But Adam and Eve weren't God´s first children; no, the Angels were. And amongst the Angels was one who envied Adam and Eve for the love God bestowed upon them. Sammael, and later Lucifer, was his name; he was the Morningstar, the most beautiful and most beloved amongst the angels. But he was also prideful and he refused to bow to humanity.

"One day, he turned himself into a snake and gained entry to Eden where he sought out Eve. He whispered lies and half-truths in her ears, slowly poisoning her mind and turning her against God, her creator. But his vilest deed was indeed that he succeeded in making Eve biting from apple from the Tree of Knowledge. None but a few remember, but in those apples was the knowledge of creation, a truly great gift, but it was never intended for humanity. It warped Eve´s mind into something dark, something sinister.

"Eve craved for children, children Adam hadn´t given her yet – not because he couldn't, but because God did not deem them ready. So she started to create them. But Eve never should have gained the knowledge of creation and so her children turned out to be monsters, savage beasts with nothing but destruction in their minds. Vampires, shape shifters and werewolves are only a few of those children of Eve still ailing humanity.

"God knew what Eve has done and he bewept the loss of his child. Knowing that he had to stop her, but not willing to end any of his creation, he cast her into Purgatory, a dark and sinister place where He casted down everything that dared to threaten His creation, to be imprisoned there for all eternity. He sent Adam, and Eve´s children down to earth, for Eden had been tarnished and was unfit for humanity. With his descent to earth, God gifted Adam with Lilith, his second wife, with whom Adam should later sire two children, Cain and Abel. Sammael did not receive punishment for God had still hope that he would learn to love humanity like he did. An ill-founded hope.

"But God did not give up on humanity and still loved them like he did when he created them. Sammael, still convinced that this flawed creatures were not worth God´s love retreated and bid his time. And his time did come. When murmurs from other angels about the flaws of human kind grew louder, he descended to earth, where many years had passed since humanity´s fall, and sought out Lilith. He captured her and tortured her very soul until she broke and became his first demon, for nobody could withstand an Angel´s torture.

"God saw what Sammael had done and he bewept the loss of another child. He declared Sammael outlawed and with that, Sammael became Lucifer. Lucifer, enraged because of this injustice, declared war upon heaven and many angels rallied to his cause. For the first time, heaven was no place of serene peace and beauty but of war and destruction. Many Angels died and it seemed the fight would never end, until God himself ordered his first-born Michael to cast Lucifer out of Heaven. Where he struck earth, the endless pits of Hell were formed and God imprisoned Lucifer and all his followers and creations there. It became known as the Great Fall."

Damion finished with his tale. While he had told his story, Sam had fallen asleep, whereas Dean still listened enraptured to his every word.

"That story has no happy ending," Dean said after a while.

"Not every story has one," Damion stated. "And often those that have, never occurred at all."

"I didn't understand everything," Dean spoke out. "But why do bad people go to hell, when it is only the place where Lucifer is imprisoned?"

"Nobody knows why," Damion began to answer, "but in my opinion God realized, or he had known already, that his creation would always be susceptible to sin if he was to let them keep free will. Maybe I am right, maybe I am wrong, but nevertheless after the Great Fall he decreed that every sinner would find themselves in Hell after their death to suffer for all eternity. Not long after that, he left Heaven, never to be found till today." Damion finished.

"I think", Damion began while he rose from his chair which instantly vanished, "that I have lingered long enough for today. Expect me again, Dean."

"Thank you for this story," Dean whispered and a smile started to spread on Damion´s face.

"It was a pleasure," he simply said.

"Will you tell me another one?" Dean asked shyly.

"That depends on whether or not there will be a next time, Dean," Damion said. "Will there be one?" Dean was silent for a while, not looking at Damion.

"But only for a story?" Dean asked tentatively, looking at Damion with wide green eyes.

"Of course," Damion assured him. "Only for a story."

Dean said nothing while he walked out of the room, but at least his posture had relaxed and he wasn't radiating animosity all the time, what Damion counted as success. But he was far more elated by Dean´s plea to come by again and tell a story.

When the door closed behind him, he vanished, leaving behind only an empty floor.

* * *

When he materialized again, it was in one of the mansion´s saloons where Lilith was currently lying on one of the couches, reading a book. She looked up when she felt Damion appear.

"How did your meeting go?" she asked, closing the book slowly and laying it beside her on a little table.

"Dean wanted me to tell him a story," Damion answered as he poured himself a glass of brandy at the bar. "I told him of the Great Fall."

Lilith´s face contorted into a pained expression. "It isn't a nice story," she said quietly. "Full of hurt, suffering and betrayal. It broke the universe, never to be whole again. It still overshadows our existence, even after millennia. Humanity may have forgotten, but we, Damion, we still remember how everything fell apart in those times. We still remember families tearing each other apart; we still remember the crimes so heinous it was forbidden to ever speak of them again; we still remember how heaven and earth alike were engulfed in flames and how Hell came to be." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We still remember. Why did you tell him about that?"

"Because ignorance isn't bliss, as it is always propagandized," Damion answered. "Both, Heaven and Hell will try to meld them into their perfect little soldiers, indoctrinating them with their side of the story. And if I can prevent that by simply telling Dean a story he does not believe to be true, who am I to let such an opportunity pass by?"

"But alas, you are right: We remember, we still do," Damion said and drank the whole glass, the alcohol slowly burning in his throat. "But at least we do it properly."

* * *

AN: And here is the next chapter. The purpose of the story, Damion is telling Dean, is to close some logical holes in the SPN Canon. I don't know if I had any success, but I do hope so. For example, where did Eve come from? She acted like she was some kind of Goddess, creating living beings all the time, and doesn't God have some monopole on things like this? And what purpose did hell serve after Lucifer was imprisoned in it? And where did Lilith suddenly came from, when there were only Adam and Eve at the beginning? I hope some of these questions have been answered. And Castiel made his appearance, and will continue to do so. But don't expect him anytime soon.

Don't know when the next chapter will be posted.


	5. Many Meetings

**WARNING:** This chapter contains graphic description of torture!

* * *

The next time Damion visited Dean and Sam was exactly three days later. Again they had moved to another small and insignificant city somewhere in Colorado where a werewolf was currently terrorizing the locals. This time Dean and Sam were even allowed to go outside, but only with silver knife and a huge amount of salt at hand and only to the motel´s playground where Sam was happily playing in the sandbox; creating piles of sand with his tiny hands which probably should be castles in which beautiful princesses waited for their knights in shining armor to come and take them to far-away lands. Every few seconds Sam would look up, a smile on his face and his eyes shining brightly, and wave to his brother Dean who sat a few meters away on a bench, keeping an ever watchful eye on his little brother. The near-six-years-old did not indulge in any of the gadgetry or activities offered at the playground, for it was his duty to keep his brother safe and he could not fulfill aforementioned duty by playing and letting his guard down. He long had learned to suppress any yearning looks.

That was the scene Damion found when he stepped out of the motel´s hall into the playground area. It was a beautiful day. The sun shone bright at the horizon, its rays of light making everything more intensive whilst a slow breeze swept away the leaves on the ground still left, seemingly making them dance around, faster and faster, until you were no longer able to see them. While the temperatures were still low and would continue to be so for a while, the weather forecaster in the whole state did not see any indication of snow in the near future at all, which, while not being something completely new, was still something unusual. But the people did not complain and so everyone went on as usual.

Damion made sure to let the gravel creak under his shoes, so that Dean would be able to recognize someone coming near him. The boy obviously heard him, for his head turned around and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Damion while his right hand disappeared in one of his jacket´s pockets, probably where he had stuffed away his silver knife. Damion did not let this deter him and sat down next to Dean who tried to slip away as stealthy as possible. Damion´s lips curled to a smile.

"I have already visited you and your brother twice and have never done any harm to you", he spoke casually. "and still you cannot try to at least accept my presence. You don't have to like or to trust me, but you could accept that I wish not to bring any harm to you." Dean did not answer; just starred at his brother, who still hadn´t noticed Damion´s arrival.

"Are you still refusing to talk to me?" Damion asked amused. "The last time you asked for a story. I did comply with it. Have you thought about what I told you?" He watched Dean, now fidgeting with his fingers. Maybe the boy did overthink his notion of not speaking any words to him. Or he could just hope for Damion to leave him if he did not speak to him. He did not know, but it was rather interesting to watch. He looked over to the sandbox. Sam had noticed him, for he starred at him with wide eyes. Than he smiled and waved to him with his tiny hand, still dirtied with the brown sand. Damion gave him a smile and returned the gesture which seemed to delight the little toddler for he erupted in little giggles. Dean obviously wasn't pleased with this development, for he furrowed his brow, giving his face a rather menacing look. However Damion´s interest in Dean´s little brother was enough to break his resolve.

"Why do we have it wrong?" he finally asked.

"You mean the story?" Damion queried. Dean just nodded. "All what I have told you about happened many millennia ago. I cannot fathom exactly why or when your human lore became so wrong, but I think it is mainly because nobody wanted you to know about what happened to Lilith and what became of Eve. If it was public knowledge some of your race may try something similar in order to gain power."

"You mean, like some would try to make monsters do what they want if they knew about them?" Dean asked. Damion was surprised.

"Where did you get such an idea?" he wondered. Dean shrugged with his shoulders.

"Sometimes when dad thinks I don't listen, he speaks about how the government would try to breed a monster army", he explained and looked at Sam. "Don't know why anybody would do that though."

"Not everybody has the wisdom to realize that monsters cannot be controlled", Damion said.

"They should!" Dean stated heatedly. He took a few breaths to calm himself down.

"You should not burden yourself with thoughts like this", Damion said after a while. "For said scenario isn't likely to occur anytime soon. You humans can be exceptionally gifted in the art of denying what is directly in front of your eyes." He chuckled. "There are many documented cases of demonic possession, and still you continue to believe it to be an affliction of the mind." He remained silent for a while. "But these thoughts are too dark for such a lovely day like this, aren't they? Maybe we should speak about something…more enjoyable. Your birthday is this month, isn't it?" Dean´s face became emotionless, his eyes darkened. "Six years old."

"How do you know?" Dean whispered.

"It isn't that difficult to gain access to your hall of records, Dean", Damion said. "Did you really believe I would not inform myself beforehand?" Dean kept his head averted. "And why are you so upset about me knowing the date of your birth? I thought it was a rather joyous occasion for humans?" In this moment you could hear the noise of a car drawing near.

"It seems that your father is coming back", Damion said and rose from the bench. "I bid you farewell. Until the next time." And with these words he walked away. When Dean was sure that no one would hear him, he answered the question.

"Because dad doesn't remember", he whispered. "He never does since mom." But unbeknown to him, he was heard.

* * *

Susie Barnable was currently on her way to her flat in the apartment block she lived in. Walking on the sideway, she was constantly casting gazes around, for the neighborhood she was walking though wasn't really inviting. Half of the streetlights did not work, their glass covers probably destroyed by bored teenagers throwing stones at them and those who did work only radiated a rather weak light. All this left the street in a half-shadowed state only disrupted by some small bright spots right under the streetlights. At the left side of the streets an unkempt park began, its trees and bushes making up an impenetrable front of brushwood seemingly swallowing what little light reached this side of the street. When the wind stirred up and swished through the plants, it created an eerily swoosh which caused a shudder running down Susie´s spine. On the right side of the streets desolated house fronts loomed above her, their entire front walls covered in graffiti and their windows either broken, leaving only a few sharp shards of glass behind, or barricaded with wooden boards in order to prevent homeless people from seeking shelter.

Susie pressed her pursed against her chest, as if it would be able to protect her somehow if she was suddenly attacked. Normally Susie didn't have such worries, for she had walked her for many years already, but somehow it was different today. It was as if the air itself tried to press her down and prevent her from reaching her home, as if something sinister lured in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to attack. The night itself seemed to be more eerie and never before had Susie wished to reach her flat and lock the door behind her so desperately.

"What do we have here? Don't you know that woman like you should not be outside this late?" a voice came from behind her. When Susie turned around she saw a man emerging from the shadows of one of the houses. He obviously was a homeless, for his clothes were a conglomeration of many rags in different colors and his brown shaggy hair hung loose and unkempt from his head. He flashed her a smile showing his yellow and destroyed teeth. Susie quickened her pace. For a while the only sound you were able to hear was the click of Susie´s shoes hitting the ground. When she did not hear the man following her, Susie let go a breath of relief. She didn't know what she would have done if the man had intended to harm her. Her heart nearly stopped, when she suddenly was gripped rough and yanked back. A shriek made its way out of her mouth before a dirty hand covered it.

"That's very naughty", she heard the men from before whispering in ear hear. His breath was warm and ran over her skin, causing bile to rise up in her throat. "We don't want someone to find you, do we? The boss has some questions for you and it would be…inconvenient for both of us if the boss´s demands aren't met. So what do you say if we make a little…detour on your way home?" Before Susie could say a word, something hit her head and darkness embraced her.

When she woke up, Susie found herself chained in a chair in the middle of what was probably an abandoned storage room. Susie panicked. She had read many thrillers and the current setting reminded her frighteningly of one appearing in said books. What do these men want from her? Who was this "boss" her abductor had referred to?

"Ah, I see our guest has finally…joined us". A man stepped out of the shadow. A rather average guy, with worn down jeans, checkered shirt over which he wore a green jacket.

"What do you want from me?" Susie asked, petrified. "Please, don't hurt me." The man laughed. It wasn't a very pleasant laugh. It was laced with sick glee and malignity, making Susie wanting to cringe away in fear. But the chains held her firmly in place.

"Oh, I won´t harm you", the man smirked. "If you can give me what I want."

"What do you want from me? Money? I don't have any!" Susie pled. The man laughed again.

"I don't want anything frivolous such as your money", he said in a bored tone. "What I want from you is information…and entertainment. So, don't waste any time, let´s get started, shall we?" He clapped his hands and the sound echoed throughout the hall. Slowly the man walked towards her. Susie whimpered.

"Please…please…let me go", Susie begged, her pleas becoming more and more desperate the nearer the man came. She could practically feel the evil oozing from the man as if he had cocooned himself in it. And then he stood in front of her.

"Did I say that I do even believe you, when you say that you do not possess the information I seek?" the man asked nonchalant, while he let his fingers roam over a wide array of knifes he seemingly had produced out of nowhere on an empty table.

"But you see", he picked up a knife with jagged surface, "you subconsciously know what I want. Ok, some may argue that I do indeed possess the ability to extract the knowledge without doing you any harm", he waved his hand, still holding on to the knife in a cheery gesture, "but there wouldn't be any fun involved. At least not for me!" And with this he rammed the knife straight through Susie´s palm. For the first few seconds Susie was too shocked by the turn of events to even process that a knife had been run through her hand, but when her brain finally caught up with reality she screamed. Whit, hot pain shot through her; waves of agony clashing inside her. She screamed and screamed. Her field of vision blurred, everything started to turn white. She wanted so desperately for the pain to go away, but it just became stronger and stronger, until it was all-encompassing, until it was the only thing Susie could think about. Or rather be aware of. Thinking wasn't even possible for her anymore.

"Please…", she managed to sob between her screams which became hoarser and hoarser the longer she tried to express her pain through it. The man just stood there and watched her, a cruel smile on his face and in his eyes nothing but glee for her pain.

"Oh, darling", he whispered seductively, on hand of the hilt of the knife, the other on her cheek, slowly following the trail of the tears she had shed without noticing so. "I…am…not…finished…yet!" And with every word he pressed the knife farther and farther down. This time Susie´s screams were muffled by the man´s finger suddenly pressed on her lips.

"Psssst, darling", he said in a worried voice. "Don't scream too much at the beginning. It´s like sex; the best comes at the end. And I don't want you to be unable to scream then, only because you damaged your vocal chords already." Susie whimpered.

"Now", the man said. "that we are about to really get to know each other, I should introduce myself. After all, I am nothing but a perfect gentleman. The name is Azazel and I will be the last one you will ever see!"

* * *

The fourth time Damion visited Dean and Sam was again at the little playground, positioned behind the motel. The weather wasn't as pleasant as it had been when he last stopped by, but it was still warm enough for the two to be outside. Dean watched as his little brother played with the sand. Sammy had taken a liking to the sandbox and it showed on his face which seemed to have been stuck in a constant smile when he was allowed to play there. Just yesterday he had said his first word. And it hadn´t been what their father had had expected.

* * *

_After Damion had left them, Dean turned his gaze back towards his little brother, who seemed a little bit confused by the boy´s sudden departure._

_ "Don't worry, Sammy", Dean exclaimed to his little brother. "´m sure, he´ll come back." Though Dean didn't know what to think about that. He was rather conflicted over the subject. That had been Damion´s third meeting with them and so far he hadn´t done anything that warranted Dean´s suspicions. He didn't behave like the Supernatural usually behaved, as far as Dean´s limited experiences and the tales of his father were concerned: Neither had he tried to lure them or to harm them in any other way, nor had he wreaked havoc wherever he went or had eaten anything resembling a human. If Dean didn't know the non-human nature of the teenager, he would think him rather nice and wouldn't have any objections against him spending time with him. But the suspicions his father had instilled in him were deep rooted and Dean wouldn't let his yearning for someone affect his duty of watching over Sam. Said boy currently was about to shove a hand full of sand into his mouth. _

_ "Sam!" Dean cried out and sprang from the bench. "Don't eat that, it will make you sick!" To further fortify his poin,t Dean made a show of making sick faces, trying to show the possible negative outcomes should Sam continue his course of action. It seemed to work, for Sam slowly lowered his hand._

_ "Sam! Dean!" he heard his father call from across the playground. He stood in the frame of the door leading in the reception area of the motel and looked at them fondly. He pushed himself off the doorframe he was leaning on and walked over to Sam._

_ "Something unusual happened?" he asked Dean without looking at him._

_ "No, sir", Dean answered obediently. Dean still held on to his decision to not tell his father about Damion as long as he didn't represent any danger to them. And so far he hadn't. _

_ "Na, Sammy, had fun today while I was gone?" John asked his youngest son and ruffled though his hair. Sam looked at him with wide eyes. His lips quivered as if he wanted to say something. Dean´s heart began to beat faster. Maybe Sam would say his first real word today and not some unintelligible blabbering. _

_ "What is it, Sam?" his dad asked, trying to encourage the toddler. "Do you want to say us something?" Sam still seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say, but then he extended his hand, still full of sand, towards John._

_ "Sand", he said. "Sand, sand, sand, sand." He looked proudly at John while still holding to the sand in his hand. John seemed to be disappointed, for his smile fell from his face._

_ "That´s great, Sam", he said without conviction behind his words. "What about trying to say 'Dad', hmm?" Sam obviously didn't assess this to be something worthy to achieve, for he kept murmuring about sand._

* * *

Later, when their father had been gone, Dean had praised Sam for his first real word. He didn't know why his dad had been slightly disappointed. In Dean´s opinion, Sam speaking his first word was something worth celebrating. But he didn't say so. Dad would have just been angry at him for questioning him, and his father always knew best.

"Hello again, Dean." Dean nearly fell from the bench when Damion´s voice came from behind him. But he caught himself in time and so it was just an undignified leaping up.

"Excuse me, I did not realize that suddenly speaking from behind would startle you", Damion said with a small grin on his face, contradicting what he just had said. Dean gave him an angry glare while Damion sat down beside him.

"Again at the playground?" he asked nonchalantly. Dean just nodded. "Why don't you play?"

"´Cause I have to watch out for Sammy", Dean answered. Both looked over to the subject of their talk. Sam had noticed Damion arriving and giggled happily.

"That is a huge responsibility for you", Damion commented.

"It´s my duty, I´m his big brother", Dean said proudly. He was still weary, but he couldn't keep up the constant mistrust he had shown their meetings before. And it was nice to talk to someone other than his dad. Dean instantly felt ashamed for this thought. He should be grateful that he had his father and soon Sammy to talk to him and not revel in the opportunity to talk to something Supernatural.

"Don't you have big brothers, too?" he asked Damion instead. His face took a pained expression.

"I don't have any older siblings", he answered. "But I did have a twin brother and some extended family."

"Are they dead?" Dean asked cautiously. Maybe Damion didn't want to talk about it. Dean couldn't even begin to imagine a world in which Sammy wasn't alive. It hurt him even thinking about it. If Damion had loved them, like Dean did love Sam, then he would be very sad.

"No, they aren't", Damion answered after a while. "We just had a big fight. My brother took the word of some of his brethren over mine and it ended in him banishing me from my home."

"´m sorry", Dean said and he meant it. Human or not, Dean didn't think that losing one's family; no, being ostracized by your own flesh and blood; was something you could get over. Damion must have been very sad for a long time.

"Don't be", Damion said. "It was long ago and while I have never made nor ever will make peace with it, I have closed this chapter of my life. It should not determine what I am in the present or what I chose to become in the future. It´s all about choices; choices and their consequences; Dean, and while my brother made his, so did I. And the world kept on spinning." Dean was silent for a while, whilst trying to comprehend what Damion had said. The elder boy had this ability to pack words of wisdom into everything he said, and while Dean did not understand everything, at least he tried to do so.

"But are you fine now?" he finally asked. This question made Damion smile.

"I think I am", he answered. "I wasn't for a very long time though. But I have met people; many, many people and some of them helped me…some of them still do." His smile widened. "But enough about me. Has anything interesting occurred whilst I was away?"

Dean hesitated. What could he tell Damion without actually compromising himself, Sammy and his father? He knew that he couldn't reveal anything important, like the hunts their dad was on, where he currently was (although he didn't even know that), or where they planned to head to next. The last thing didn't seem to deter Damion in the slightest, for he always seemed to know where they were. Finally Dean found something which he could tell Damion without any danger connected with it.

"Sammy has said his first word", Dean said proudly and Sam´s head jerked up, when he heard his name being called. Damion furrowed his brows, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Really?" he said. "And which was it? Not the standards, I guess, like 'daddy'?" Dean was about to answer, but Sam was faster.

"Sand! Sand! Sand!" he exclaimed happily while he smacked his hands on aforementioned substance which now adorned nearly his whole clothes. Damion laughed. In Dean´s opinion it was a rather pleasant sound. It seemed…free. Without resentment, bitterness and anger weighting it down, just like Sammy´s laugh.

"Now, that was rather…unconventional", he said when his laugh had subsided, but the amusement was still in his eyes. For reasons unknown to Dean, he was relieved that there was someone else who thought Sam´s first word to be something special. His dad wasn't as enthusiastic as Dean when it came to Sam´s first word.

"Being unconventional is something everybody should strive for", Damion continued. "Only that makes you someone special, someone who sticks out of the masses of dull faces and grey attire, someone others take notice of. No great men and no great woman in humanity´s history were conventional. Only those who sought their destiny outside the borders erected by both nature and society alike became special, engraved in monuments and history books alike. Never cease being unconventional, Dean, never." His last words were given in insistent tone.

"I´ll try", Dean said, unsure what Damion expected. But said boy seemed to be content.

"It was a pleasure having this talk, but I fear I have to move on", he said and Dean couldn't help but feeling slightly disappointed. "But fear not, for I will visit again." He walked over to Sam, stopping at the edge of the sandbox. Dean didn't like it, but he was sure that Damion wouldn't hurt Sammy. He had plenty of opportunity do so before, but hadn't done it. Damion kneeled down, until his head was on the same level as Sam. The boy just stared at him, sand at the corner of his mouth.

"I bid you farewell as well, Sam", Damion said as if he spoke to an adult instead of a nearly-two-year-old. Sam just giggled and offered him a hand full of sand. Damion too it, careful to not let any of the sand corns slide between his fingers.

"Thank you, Sam", he said, turned around and walked passed Dean, where he, unbeknown to both of them, vanished.

* * *

**Mutilated Corpse Found By Police **

Yesterday the police has discovered a severely mutilated corpse in an abandoned storage room at the edge of town. Susie B., only identifiable by her identification card, which had been found by her side, had been on her way from her working place when she was probably ambushed and murdered.

"It was gruesome", Police Officer Roland stated while being interviewed by the reporter. "Everywhere was blood; her whole skin was cut open, as if the culprit wanted to carve art into her. Fingers and toes were severed from her body and kept into separate container. As if this wasn't enough, this [censored by the editorial staff]did things to her I cannot describe. But it was bad enough to make our toughest guys running out of the room."

The police did not comment on the process of their investigation or if anyone already is under suspicion, merely stating that all possible avenues of investigation would be pursued. Meanwhile major Brandton urges the citizens to not leave their houses alone at darkness and to avoid any criminal hot spots of the city.

This reporter will keep you updated.

* * *

**AN**: And here you have the next chapter, enjoy! No Lilith this time, I´m sorry. At the beginning I hadn't even planned her to be part of the story, but inspiration struck me like exhibitionism seemed to have struck Miley Cyrus (that girl is half naked all the time in her videos…and riding wracking balls) and so she just came to be. Simply as that. The next chapter will entail Dean´s birthday and the beginning of my time skips through Dean and Sam´s teenage lives, although some scenes will be highlighted and detailed to describe the development of their relationship. And maybe more background history about Damion, Lilith and Co.? Furthermore I have finally found a beta-reader, yeah! Applause to the fabulous Zylstra, who will now bear my unbetaed work before it will be delivered to you! Because of this, expect the already posted chapters to be updated in the next time (don't know when exactly). And I think is haunted. When I upload a chapter and go through it a last time and everything is in order, I publish it and…bang, the next time I read it some words and even whole sentences have vanished. Creepy O.o Hope to see you again, my faithful followers! Now I can rest in peace, for I finally had the opportunity to use this sentence. Okay, I may not be a powerful Dark Lord, but at least I could be if I wrote a fanfiction about it ;)


	6. As Times Pass By

When Dean woke on the morning of his sixth birthday the first thing he did was to not open his eyes. Instead he just lay there in his bed, Sammy beside him, and listened to the quiet noises he was able to hear. The loud snores his father made, which Dean thought, sounded like he imagined a big mean bear to snore and the more quiet breath his brother exhaled, only disrupted by his subconscious attempts at keeping the drool from leaking out of his mouth. Sometimes one of them would shift his position and a loud rustling of the sheets could be heard until a more comfortable position had been achieved and then the noises would die down.

Normally Dean wasn't awake that early in the morning but it was his birthday and he was rather excited. His last two birthdays hadn´t been that great; his fourth his father and he himself had forgotten for it had been shortly after his mother had died and his fifth hadn´t been celebrated either, because his father had been too drunk to remember. But he got a Batman t-shirt a few days later when his dad finally remembered. But this time, Dean hoped, everything would be better. He didn't know why he had these feelings, but it was like today would be a great day. It felt like a little sun had been set alight in his belly and its rays of joy flowed through his body.

The weather itself seemed to agree with Dean´s mood. When he finally opened his eyes rays of sunlight flowed through the gaps in the curtain and lit the room in warm, yellow light and were reflected by grains of dust flowing in the air, looking like hundred little stars had been set alight. Invisible breezes swirled those stars around like mighty currents in the ocean, creating an ever changing pattern of light and dust. Dean was content with just lying there in the bed and watching this peaceful scenery which had been unfolded right in front of his eyes.

* * *

When the door closed behind John Winchester Dean´s joy had shattered in thousand little shards. He just starred at the closed door, completely numb and ignoring his brother who sat on the ground, playing with his toys. His father had forgotten. Not a single word of acknowledgement, no 'Happy Birthday', nothing. Dean hadn´t expected any kind of gift. He would have been content with his father smiling at him and congratulating him, maybe going to a Diner later that day and eating a Cheeseburger with extra bacon. But his father just had explained that he had to research for a new hunt in the library and wouldn't come back until later that evening. As if it was just a usual day. As if nothing special had happened.

"Sand," Sammy said inquiring as if he could sense Dean´s sadness. Dean just looked into Sam´s eyes which began to water.

"No, Sammy," Dean assured his brother. "I´m not sad, because of you. See!" Dean forced a smile on his face. It seemed to ease Sam for he soon started to play with the little action figures which once had been Deans´. But he had given them to his little brother, when he had noticed that Sam had nothing to play with. And while Sam played on the ground, mumbling and completely oblivious to the world around him, Dean sat on the edge of the bed and tried hard not to think about the fact, that his birthday, again, had been forgotten. Maybe his dad would come back earlier with a surprise? Maybe the research had been only an excuse for him to get an awesome gift for him?

"For someone who has something to celebrate you do certainly look somber." The sudden comment made Dean jump from the bed and facing the now open door in which frame Damion stood. Dean couldn't quite fathom how he had managed, but it probably was some magic trick they taught every Supernatural.

"From your lack of response I assume that you are still processing everything currently occurring. Therefore, to keep the curious from peeking into your noble abode, I will be so free and allow myself to enter and close the door," Damion said with a chuckle and did as he had said while Dean still tried to understand what he actually had said.

"Hello Sam", Damion said to Dean´s little brother who had looked up from his toys when the other had entered.

"Dam..Dam…," he mumbled, bouncing around and trying to utter Damion´s name.

"I am truly honored for you having remembered my name," Damion said and Dean really felt like he meant what he said and didn't just try to indulge a little toddler. When Damion sat on the edge of the bed he turned to Dean.

"So, Dean, six years old. How do you feel?" he asked.

"Great," Dean said without much conviction. Actually he was pretty sure that he should feel great, because, after all, it was his birthday; but somehow he couldn't really indulge in this feeling.

"You do not seem to be that blitheful," Damion commented.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked confused. Damion always used so big words.

"It means that you are far too sad for your sixth birthday," Damion said. "And I am here to rectify that."

With that he gripped in one of the inside pockets of his suit. When his hand reappeared it held a rather precious looking book in a brown leather cover. It had a similar look like the journal his father used to write in. Dean felt a kind of awe. His dad always taught him how books were a hunters´ best friend, for they contained information about how to bring down many kinds of different creatures. And many of the books he had shown Dean were really old. For Dean they had a special atmosphere to them; eternal and wise, for countless people had sought wisdom from their pages. And what Damion held in his hand was definitely such an eternal book.

With extreme caution Dean took the book from Damion´s hands. It wasn't as heavy as he had assumed; quite the opposite in fact. Slowly Dean let his finger sweep over the brown leather. It felt so warm, as if the sun had shone upon it the whole time. And Dean could perceive its faint smell, like the back seats of the Impala and the odor of cinnamon atop of a bowl of vanilla pudding he once had on a sunny day in a Diner as dessert.

When Dean had finally finished inspecting the book he opened it, very carefully in order to avoid damaging the book. Within he starred at countless blank pages of, not paper, but rather parchment. Dean looked at Damion inquiringly.

"This isn't just an ordinary blank book, Dean," Damion explained when he noticed the younger boy´s questioning stare. "It´s a one-of-a-kind. I personally created it. Has your father already taught you how to read and write?" Dean nodded. He wasn't very good at it, but he was able to create simple messages. His dad thought it to be important in case they had to pass messages.

"That´s good," Damion said in approval. "For you see, this book is able to identify every monster ailing humanity. Just write down every supernatural symptoms occurring and it will tell you which monster it is likely to be and how you can counter its influence."

Dean just stood there and tried hard not to stop breathing. He couldn't believe that someone had given him such a great gift. Dean may have been only six years old, but he wasn´t naïve; he could tell that this was something which would make his, and probably his dad´s and Sammy´s life, a lot easier than it was now. But that was far in the future. Now, everything Dean was experiencing was this feeling of joy and gratitude towards the supernatural being sitting in front of him. Maybe it was unfair, but in this moment he was rather glad that he was there and not his father. He hadn't forgotten his birthday over a possible lead on a new hunt. And he even got him a birthday present.

"Thank you," Dean said, smiling and clutching the book to his chest. Damion reciprocated the smile.

"I am indeed glad that you like my present," he said. "But I have to advise you against showing it to your father, for his indiscriminate distrust for anything not 'normal' would have it instantly destroyed." Dean´s mood subdued, but only a little bit.

"But I can´t hide it from dad," he said. "He will find it and then he´ll be angry!"

"You don't have to worry," Damion assured him. "Nobody but you and those you have entrusted with its secret are able to perceive this book. Everyone else´s gaze will just slide over it without actually noticing it."

There was a moment of silence in which Dean contemplated over everything just said to him. Somehow it didn't make him nervous or so, but rather excited. Here it was; a secret belonging to only him and he was the one to decide whom he told about it. Dean hadn´t much which belonged only to him and therefore he treasured the few things he had only with much more ferocity. Maybe, in the future, he would share the secret of the book with Sammy, but for now it was something only he knew about and Dean liked it.

"Now, after having exchanged presents, we should leave this dusty room and go eating some ice cream," Damion suggested. Dean looked at him.

"But dad said we aren´t allowed to leave the room alone," Dean protested weakly. In fact he wasn't that averse to ice cream. He couldn't remember when he had had this desert the last time.

"But you won´t be alone, will you?" Damion said with a sly grin. "I will be with you. Of course, if you prefer to stay in this room I will accept your decision." When he saw that Dean wasn't about to complain, he continued. "So grip your brother and off we are!"

Seeing that no harm could possible come from going to get some ice cream, Dean went to his brother.

"Hey, Sammy," he said to his little brother who had turned his attention to his toy figures while Damion had given Dean The Book (the name Dean´s mind had given the present). "We´re getting some ice cream. Do you wanna come?" Not really comprehending what was being said, but not wanting to be left out, Sam just laughed at Dean and extended his arms towards him.

"Then let´s go!" Dean exclaimed and followed Damion out of the room.

* * *

John Winchester was currently sitting at one of the numerous tables which were offered to the customers of the local library for reading and researching, bent over a thick tome of demonic lore. He was rather lucky to have found such a treasure in a public library somewhere in the Middle West of America in a town which name he would forget the moment he had passed its border. He actually had come to dig through the local newspaper archive in pursuit of new hunts, but when he found the book it was as if God Himself had intervened on his behalf.

"Excuse me?" he was interrupted from his reading by a teenage boy, who seemed to be rather nervous, constantly fidgeting with his fingers.

"Yeah?" John said shortly, not wanting to waste his time with some stranger.

"I´m searching for the children´s book section, but I seem to be unable to locate it," the boy made a nervous chuckle. "I am looking for a book I can borrow for my little brother. His birthday is today; he is six now, but anyway, I wanted to borrow some stories for him." John starred at him for a few seconds not sure what to make of the boy. John had no illusions; he knew that he didn't look inviting for inquiries of any kind, be it the way to the next groceries store or the location of the children´s book section.

"´m not sure myself, but I think it´s at the back of the library," he said and gestured in the approximate direction.

"Thank you," the boy said and was about to go when he noticed the bracelet John wore, a piece of jewelry Dean had made him when Mary still had been alive.

"You have children?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," John answered not really in the mood to answer the questions of random strangers concerning his family.

"Two boys," he added when the boy made no inclination to stop bothering him.

"And how old are they? Dylan, my brother, is six," the boy said and beamed at him. John had to suppress the urge to just knock the boy unconscious.

"One is nearly two and the other is six." And then, like someone had physically slapped him across his face, John suddenly remembered: Today was Dean´s sixth birthday! And he had forgotten! Shame and guilt washed over John like a tsunami. Today was Dean´s special day and he had nothing better to do than to forget it and do research instead. He looked at the clock. 6 pm. There was still some time left.

"Excuse me, I have something to do," he said, gripped his jacket and the book and rushed past the boy without bothering to look at him. If he had done so, John may have noticed the smile that had appeared on aforementioned boy´s face and he definitely would have noticed his sudden vanishing into thin air, as if he hadn´t just stood beside the now empty table in this nameless library.

* * *

It was late that evening; Dean had already tucked in Sam; when the door to their room opened and his father entered.

"Hi son," he just said while he stood there and watched his oldest.

"Hi dad," Dean said, not sure what else to do. His dad usually didn't behave like this…like he had something to atone for. And Dean still was a little sour over the fact that his dad had forgotten his birthday.

"Look Dean," John said, obviously noticing the tension developing between them. "I have a present for you." He gripped behind him and held out a little box towards Dean. Dean´s eyes went wide: His dad hadn´t forgotten! He had gotten him a present, a real one. And it was for him, for him alone. Dean´s heart felt like it would burst through his chest; so great was the joy and elation rushing through his veins.

"What is it? What? What?" he exclaimed excited and rushed towards the parcel, ripping apart the wrapping around it as fast as he could. When the parcel´s content was finally revealed Dean held his breath. In his hands he held a brown leather jacket! But not a random one, no it was the one he had eyed when they had stayed in another town a few days ago. And his father had remembered! Tears threatened to spill over and with one swift move Dean had his arms wrapped around his father.

"Thanks, dad," he said. "It´s the best present ever." His dad just looked down at him fondly and returned the hug.

"Can´t forget the birthday of my oldest, can I?" he just said and circled with his hands over Dean´s back. Dean just basked in the attention his father bestowed upon him for once. The jacket could wait a little longer. Now it was just him and his dad. The world would still be there tomorrow.

* * *

"How was your little birthday party?" Lilith asked when Damion appeared in the room she was currently occupying. The attic of the mansion was empty and therefore rather spacious. Big windows at each side of the roof allowed much sunlight in, illuminating the old timber pilling on which the female demon had drawn numerous symbols and runes, concentrated around a circle in which she was just standing. In front of her, on a pedestal, was an iron bowl over which she was tearing apart a piece of paper inscribed with old Sumerian formulae in blood-red ink. Knowing Lilith it probably was blood. Damion probably didn't want to know where she got it from.

"It took a bit of work at the beginning, but in the end I think I can count it as success," Damion answered her query while he eyed her ritual. "Dean seemed to have had fun, as did his brother Samuel. Children are much more effortless to handle than adults, no matter which race." Lilith snorted.

"Imagine organizing a party for Azazel…or Alistair," she said and Damion had to suppress an undignified snicker.

"They would assume it to be an elaborate scheme," Lilith continued while stirring the content of the bowl. "Alistair would kill everyone and then bitch about the time he wasted when he could have had a few souls demonized. And Azazel would poison the punch with his blood and watch who would develop any kind of psychic powers."

"Speaking of punch," Damion raised his eye brows, "what exactly are you trying to achieve with this ritual?"

"I´m upgrading our lines of defense in case of emergency," Lilith answered. "You never know who will be your next visitor and this one will keep any unwanted out." They were silent for a while in which Lilith added three other ingredients to her potion.

"So," she spoke up quietly. "Now it´s all wait and see, isn't it? We have set the headstone and now we´ll have to watch out that the building won´t crumble?"

"It seems so," Damion answered.

"Luckily for you I pride myself for my patience," Lilith said and threw the last ingredient in the bowl. "May the odds be in our favor."

* * *

"I don't wanna go to school!" seven-years old Dean exclaimed while he totted behind his father, who had three-year old Sammy on his arm. "I won´t learn anything useful! I want to hunt with you!" Dean´s father sighed.

"Dean," he said. "You have to go to school. I don't like it either, because I can't protect you as I usually do, but it would draw unwanted suspicion towards us if you weren't to go to school." The last sentence was said in a tone that usually meant that there was no point in further arguing with his father. He had tried since the letter came which stated that Dean was now to go to school, or otherwise CPS would be alerted, something they couldn't risk.

"Dean school," Sam gurgled happily and smiled at his older brother. Dean didn't know if Sam was even able to comprehend what school was, but he seemed rather excited by the idea of Dean going there. Dean smiled at his younger brother and tried to keep the sadness at bay. Now that he had to go to school his time with Sammy would be severely limited. Now his dad had the duty of looking after the youngest Winchester while Dean was away.

"And here we are," John said as they reached the school building. It was nothing special, looking like a grey concrete box which just had been placed outside the city without any though wasted on its looks. Sometime ago someone apparently had tried to embellish the structure with stripes of different colors all around the building, but many of them had faded, leaving behind only a pale imprint on the grey wall, for nobody seemed to have bothered with up keeping the decoration. In front of the building, on the, likewise grey, schoolyard pupils stood in groups, talking to each other. Dean could see a group of boys playing soccer and another basketball. Behind the field stood a group of girls, giggling and browsing through some tabloid. Dean´s face distorted into distain. Girls! He shuddered.

"Now Dean, listen to me," his dad said, Sam still secured in his arms. "I want no call from the principal because you got caught doing something. I, too, was once in school and I know how it can be for a young boy. But if you do have a fight to fight or a girl to woo then do it where no teacher can see you. Am I understood?" Dean nodded.

"I have to go now," John said and Dean tried to not let the disappointment show on his face. He had so hoped that his dad wouldn't just deliver him to the schoolyard entrance, but alas his dad had better things to do. "Just go to the office and everything should be fine from thereon. Make me proud son." With these words Dean´s dad turned around and went back to the Impala, which he had parked a few blocks away. Dean just stood there, looking lost, before he readjusted his mask of bravado and was about to enter the school´s grounds when a familiar sensation run down his spine.

"First day of school for you, Dean," he could hear the voice of Damion saying. "Are you excited?" Dean turned around to see his friend standing there, still looking like the teenager he had met roughly a year ago. But instead of wearing his usual elegant business like outfit he now wore a blue v-neck t-shirt, which sleeve reached only above his elbow and fit well with the color of his human eyes, and white trousers with shoes in the same color. Although casual it still looked way better than what any other kid around the schoolyard wore. Dean included.

"You can´t just appear out of nowhere!" Dean exclaimed. "Somebody could have seen you!" Damion just gave him a 'Are you serious?' – look and starred at him.

"Fine," Dean relented. "But it won´t be my fault when you get exposed. And why would I be excited? It´s just school."

"It´s something new for you," Damion stated calmly. "And whether you like it or not, it gives you the possibility to create a completely new persona for yourself. Different from how you act around your family. See that boy over there?" Damion pointed towards a boy in a group at the other side of the schoolyard. He obviously belonged to the 'cool' kids, for his whole attire consisted of expensive brands, like Nike and Converse, and the whole group seemed to listen to his words.

"What about him?" Dean asked bewildered.

"When he is at home he listens to Mozart and reads Goethe," Damion said and Dean looked at the boy. He hadn´t seen that coming.

"But when he attends school, he listens to Eminem, woos every girl available and sells Marihuana," Damion continued. "Although he is planning to study Old English. With such an example the saying 'Don´t judge a book by its cover' gets a completely new meaning, doesn't it? But enough with the philosophical talk for now. Let´s register you and collect your time table. We don't want you to be late at your first school day, do we?"

Dean was glad that at least Damion would accompany him at his first school day. Of course he would rather die than admit this moment of weakness, but it felt nice. While they walked across the yard he noticed some of the looks they were getting. Some of them were directed at him, for being the new one, but a large amount, mostly by the older girls, went also to Damion.

"This has to be the new one."

"Which one? The young or the older one?"

"I hope it´s the older one. He looks so gorgeous."

"Do you think he´ll give me his number?"

"That jacket is so 80ies, did he steal it from his daddy?"

"I hope he will be in our class."

The whispers followed them while they entered through the main entrance. Dean was glad that Damion was there with him, if only for the deflection of attention he caused. Dean hated it. It made him so self-conscious. He looked down at himself. He wore the washed-out jeans he liked, a plain green t-shirt and the brown leather jacket he had gotten from his dad as late birthday present.

"Don´t let them bring you down," Damion whispered to him. "They don't know you or how you live. Their life is defined by ignorance. They are not aware of what lingers in the world outside of their own. You are. None of them has any right to judge you. No one." And with that Dean´s mood became lighter. Finally they had reached the office to which they had headed to where a middle-aged woman in pink cardigan sat behind a massive table.

"Hello," she said in sugar-sweet voice and a big smile which showed her perfectly white teeth. Dean thought it rather scary and if he didn't know it better he would have pegged her for a monster. Because no human could be that cheery while working in a school. But the lack of reaction from Damion seemed to indicate that the woman was indeed human, albeit a rather weird one.

"What can I do for you?" she asked and blinked in fast succession.

"This is Dean Winchester," Damion introduced him. "We wanted to collect his time table and finish everything needed pertaining his admittance to this institution." The woman looked at Dean for the first time.

"Ah," she said. "Where do I have it?" She rifled through countless stacks of paper. "Here it is, your first timetable." She smiled at Dean proudly while handing him the blue paper. Dean gripped it as fast as possible in order to avoid unnecessary contact with the woman.

"And you are his brother?" she asked Damion. For the first time since Dean knew him Damion looked actually surprised and not sure what to answer.

"Yes, he is," Dean answered instead. And he actually meant it. In the last year Damion had done so much for him and Sam while their dad had been on hunts that Dean counted him as extended family. He had stayed with them, when the TV broke down somewhere in Oregon; when their father had been injured and confined to the hospital in Wyoming and he had celebrated their birthdays with them while their father had been drunk, staring unfocused in the distance while his sons waited for him to say something. Of course, his father and Sammy came always first for Dean and that would never ever change, but Damion had wormed his way into the small circle of people he trusted.

Damion looked rather startled by this sudden revelation, another thing which had never happen before. But he composed himself fast and flashed the pink lady a smile.

"Indeed I am," he said. "Is there anything else required from us?" The woman just shook her head.

"That would be everything for now," she answered. "If anything else comes up, we´ll give you a call." With that Damion and Dean left the room.

"She was rather…strange," Damion commented. Dean just snorted.

"Ready for your first day of school?" Damion continued asking.

"Probably not, but hey, what can I do?" Dean just said, making Damion chuckle.

* * *

Over the next years Damion became a permanent fixture in Dean´s and Sam´s life. Every time John was on a hunt or otherwise occupied, he would appear in the place they were staying and entertain them. He was there when Dean struggled with school…

* * *

"I don't get why I should bother with school," a ten-year old Dean muttered while he tried to do his math homework. "It isn't so as if I would need it anyway."

"You shouldn't say something like that," Damion chided him, looking up from the text he was currently reading out aloud to six-year old Sam. "You never know what the future brings and there may arise a situation in which you´ll find the things you learned in school quite useful." Dean just rolled his eyes at his friend.

"And you want to be a role model for Sam, don´t you?" Damion added.

"Dean already is!" Sam exclaimed, looking up to his older brother. Dean´s heart beat a little faster after this declaration of brotherly love.

"But you should try your best in school though," Sam added with a thoughtful expression. Dean´s face turned into a scowl.

"Traitor!" he hissed without venom in his voice. Sam just laughed and turned his attention back to the story.

* * *

When Sam came back from his first day of school…

* * *

"How was it, Sammy?" Dean asked Sam when his brother was in hearing range. Damion had just teleported (Dean was adamant on calling it so, because it sounds way cooler than 'transferring your molecules from one place to another') them in front of the schools gate, where they had awaited Sam´s arrival. He did so quite often now; transporting Dean and Sam wherever they wanted to be, whilst still trying to not make their dad suspicious.

"It was great, Dean!" Sam exclaimed loudly. "There are so many nice kids in my class. Sarah already invited me to come and play with her and Michael was boasting with his miniature cars he has at his home. Miss Audrey, our teacher that is, promised us we would learn so much this year, I can´t really wait for the next school day to begin." His speech was interrupted by his body´s need for oxygen.

"Sounds pleasant," Damion said. Sam looked up to him.

"Oh hey, Damion," he said and grinned. "I didn't notice you right away." Damion just smiled and while they walked to the flat they were staying in (for you couldn't really talk while teleporting) Sam told them everything about his first day in school.

* * *

He gave Dean a promise…

* * *

"Damion?" thirteen-years old Dean asked hesitantly while he and his friend watched nine-years old Sam, who was currently trying to decide which sweets he should purchase, from afar.

"What troubles you, Dean?" he asked. Sometimes it scarred Dean how easily Damion could read his moods. Dean didn't answer for a while, choosing to focus on the shop instead. It was a rather nice looking sweets shop in a little town in Main, which prided itself on his long history. One side of the shop was dominated by a enormous counter in which large amounts of candy were displayed. Chocolate, caramel, gummy bears, licorice and even some Dean couldn't identify; wrapped in colorful wrappings which sparkled under the lights hanging at the ceiling, creating a shining sea of colors. The gilded scales and other golden instrument gave the customer the impression that he had not only entered a shop, but rather a different time. Children in many different ages ran through the store between the shelves and pressed their faces against the display cases in which the shop owner´s special creations were shown.

"We know each other for seven years now," Dean began and was nearly tripped by a child which didn't bother to look where it went in his pursuit of sweets.

"Indeed we do," Damion said and eyed a blue-wrapped bonbon as if it held the solution for every problem on earth. "What about it?"

"You know," Dean fidgeted with his fingers. "You have never told us what you exactly are…not that I would judge you, or something…but it would be nice to know." Dean waited for an answer. Damion sighed and placed the bonbon back in the jar where he had taken it from.

"That is a rather…grand question," he said. "And I will answer it, but not now."

"Why not?" Dean asked disappointed and a little angry. "Don't you trust me and Sammy?" A low blow, he knew, but he wanted to know.

"You know this to be erroneous," Damion said. "But some things have to be revealed at certain times. And the time for this has yet to come. As cliché as it sounds, you are simply not old enough and neither is Sam. Some things can only be understood with experience and maturity, two things, I am sorry to say, you do simply lack. But I promise that there will be a time when I will reveal my story to you."

Dean´s first instinct was to make is anger known by throwing insults and accusations at Damion and stomping out of the shop, but all the times he did so before and never changing Damion´s mind on a subject prevented him from doing so.

"I will take you on this," he threatened instead.

"I do hope so," was Damion´s reply.

* * *

Damion was there to arbitrate between Sam and Dean when their fights became bigger and bigger over the subject of hunting and their dad. Sam was strongly averse to constantly moving around and having his dad hunting the Supernatural, instead favoring a 'normal' life, while Dean wanted nothing more than to be allowed to partake in his father´s hunts. Sometimes there fights were so ugly that they did not speak with each other for hours, choosing to relying messages through Damion until they reconciled again. Because they were brothers and they were everything they had. Lilith was someone Damion hadn´t introduced them to yet and he had to confess he didn't really know if he should do it anyway. Seeing as the Winchester brother´s mother had been killed by a demon. But that wasn't urgent so he kept it at the edge of his mind. More pressing matters made themselves known, like Dean´s sixteen birthday drawing near and with it the first hunt he was allowed on.

* * *

**AN**: Wow, that was the longest chapter ever. And I haven't even written everything I wanted to be in it. So we had Dean´s birthday and a big time skip, which isn't finished yet. Next time we´ll have Dean´s first hunt and a revelation…but what will be revealed exactly?


	7. Business Not Quite As Usual

Lilith stood on a small hill, overlooking a spacious mansion at its feet.

The sky was completely devoid of any clouds, allowing moon and stars to shine with their brightest intensity. They illuminated everything in a grey light, making it look like nature and architecture alike were engulfed in a silver aura, glowing from within. Together with the prevailing silence and vacancy of movement, it nearly seemed as if time itself had stopped just for a moment, giving the viewer opportunity to take everything in and appreciate the beauty; a beauty not many had the time or the will to savor.

The landscape was covered by a thick layer of snow; untarnished by garbage and grime which usually blanketed new snow after a few minutes in areas where human population was dense. But not here. Out here, somewhere in Montana, where the next town was at least hundred miles away, the snow was still as pure white as in the moment it had fallen from the sky. If you let your gaze wander over the untouched blanket of snow it sometimes was disturbed by a trail made by a deer or other animals, wandering from one small forest on the right to the group of trees behind the mansion.

Sometimes a breeze would make its way over the landscape and would take snowflakes with it. To the viewer it looked like tendrils of white dust would flow over the snow, disappearing in the distance where the dark-blue horizon and the snow-white ground met. In the breeze´s wake some snowflakes would still float above the ground, dancing their lonely dance and reflecting the moon´s light until the breeze had died down and they would, again, sink to the ground. It looked like tiny little diamonds hovering in the air.

_How cliché_, Lilith snorted inwardly.

She still inhabited the vessel she had first possessed when Damion and her plan was set in motion. Because of her magic the body hadn´t lost any of its characteristics: The hair still curly and gold-blond. The eyes still as deep green as the forest in the middle of summer. And her skin still as pale and flawless as it has been all those years ago.

Lilith didn't remember how many, because for an immortal being such as her the currents of time weren't as important as for the frail and mortal humans who lived their whole life under time´s dominion.

_I think it were ten years_, she thought as she watched a snowflake slowly descending down to earth.

Ten years weren't that long, but still…they seemed to be clearer, more defined in her mind than every other memory. That didn't mean that she wasn't able to recall everything she had had ever the misfortune to live through, but those memories weren't as prominent as they had been before.

She hadn´t done much in the last ten years in terms of 'epic-strategic plan making', instead having traveled the world and warded their mansion. Sometimes she had visited the Winchesters, of course always in different meat suits. For hunters they surely weren't that bright in her opinion, for they had never even suspected her to be something supernatural. On the other side, John was the only one who had any experience in hunting, whereas Dean and Sam only had theoretical knowledge and some combat training, albeit very intense, due to John´s rule that they were only allowed hunting when they turned sixteen.

While Sam had been very relieved to hear that, Dean was rather disappointed. Concerning the supernatural the two brothers were the complete opposite: Sam just wanting to stay in one place, making friends in school and not to constantly move around in the pursuit of monsters, whereas Dean rejoiced in every opportunity to learn something new about the foe the majority of the people didn't believe in.

Lilith smiled.

Damion was rather proud when he told her about the brother´s achievements in school. Sam didn't need to be encouraged to do his best, but Damion even got Dean to do so. He had struck a deal with the older Winchester brother: Good grates and in return knowledge or other things concerning the supernatural. And surprisingly it worked rather well. While Sam´s strength laid in the theoretical, Dean was the one who adapted their plans into reality, making them a perfect team.

Thinking about the Winchesters reminded Lilith of the one time when she and Dean had a rather spontaneous 'date'.

* * *

_Lilith was currently sitting at one of the generic tables usually positioned in nearly every Diner in the country while she slowly devoured a slice of apple pie. She sometimes came to places like this just to watch the people frequenting it. The woman with the two children, who constantly cried for sweets while the woman just tried to drink her coffee in peace. The stressed-out business man who gazed at his watch nearly every ten seconds and gave everyone in front of him a dark look as if not believing that those people dared to disrupt his carefully crafted time schedule. It amused her greatly._

_Today Lilith wore not her usual meat-suit, but rather a 15-year old girl. She was a pleasure to look at: glossy, ebony-colored hair which seemed to glow while reflecting the Diner´s electric lightning. The hair framed a pale face; not sickly pale; with brown eyes with long and thin eyelashes, a tiny nose and red lips. She wore a white blouse and plain blue jeans. _

_ "Excuse me, but is this place still free?" Lilith tore her gaze away from the counter and looked at the person asking. She raised her eyebrow when she noticed the speaker as no other than Dean Winchester. With a plate full of pie in his hand. Lilith looked around. While the Diner was full, there were plenty of seats still free. _

_Damion had warned her that Dean had started hitting on girls. And that he sometimes was rather obvious about it. _

_ 'Oi, never thought I would be a victim of a hormone-controlled Dean Winchester,' Lilith thought rather amused. _

_ "Sure it is," she answered. Dean flashed her a smile and let himself unceremoniously fall on the bench opposite to her. Lilith continued eating her pie. She was rather excited about how Dean would continue to try to flirt with her._

_ "So," he started after taking a bite from his slice of pie. "You´re a fan of pie, too? Never have seen a girl liking it. Always throwing a fit about their BMI and other shit." _

_Eloquence didn't seem to be something the older Winchester was blessed with._

_ "Why should I concern myself about my figure when I have the opportunity of having some apple pie?" Lilith asked, playing confused. "Who knows when I´ll be able to relish it the next time?"_

_Dean snorted._

_ "What?" Lilith asked defensively._

_ "Nothing," Dean said appeasingly. "You just reminded me of a friend of mine. The same flowery language…not that that's something terrible." He smiled at her. Lilith had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. She reminded Dean of Damion! _

_ "He has to be rather sophisticated," she replied. _

_Dean just snorted. "Yeah."_

_ "So, I have never seen you before. Are you new here in town?" she asked and smiled at Dean shyly. _

_ "Yeah, we´ve just moved here," Dean answered and took another bit of his pie. "My father, my brother Sam and me. His job takes us round the whole country. I´m Dean, by the way." _

_ "Lilly, the pleasure is mine. That has to be rather lonely though," Lilith said seriously. "I mean, it would totally devastate me if I had to constantly move around and would never be able to make real friends." _

_If this was a movie, she would totally get an Oscar for her performance. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in Dean, she had to in order to further her goals, but normally she wasn't that emotionally involved like she pretended to be now. But alas, she was even able to fool Crowley, Alistair and Azazel._

_ "It´s not that bad," Dean defended himself. "Sure, sometimes it really sucks, but I have my dad, my brother and the friend I told you before and that´s all I need. I´m okay with it." He shrugged and gave her a coy smile._

_ "As long as you are content with your situation," Lilith placated him and ate another piece of her pie. _

_ "So what about you?" Dean inquired. "You life here?"_

_ "Indeed, I do," Lilith shot back and grinned at him. "Since birth. I cannot wait to leave this antediluvian settlement and see the real world out there." _

_Dean just starred at her as if she had grown a second head. _

"_Woa, that word was too big for me," he grinned at her sheepishly. "But I´m sure you just insulted your home town." He paused. "You did, didn't you?"_

_ "Maybe, maybe not," Lilith quipped. She looked at her empty plate. _

_ "It was nice meeting you, but alas, I do have to be on my merry way," Lilith said and Dean looked a little crestfallen. "But I am sure we will see us again." _

_Damion later told her that the moment he entered their apartment Dean had looked up 'antediluvian' and used it ever since._

* * *

Lilith was torn out of her reverie by the sudden change in the power pattern. Something, a lower demon, if she should guess, was drawing near. Although she would easily be able to get rid of the weak abomination, it would cause more risks to her plans than it was worth. Who knows if the demon would be missed or if he would be able to raise alarm before she killed it. Instead Lilith chose to hide herself behind a powerful veil; impenetrable by those weak fools.

When the demon came into sight, Lilith had to suppress the urge to simply laugh out loud. That stupid thing didn't even use the Sight to observe his surroundings.

The Sight was something innate in every supernatural being: It was the ability to pierce through what the humans called reality and to behold the threads of the power pattern, thus being able to see the 'true' face of other supernatural creatures. More powerful beings could use it effortlessly without thinking about it, while the less powerful had to consciously use this certain gift. And this demon didn't use it.

Lilith snorted. Who in his right mind allowed such weak creatures to guard them? But it definitely made her job easier, so she wouldn't complain about it.

When the demon was again out of sight, Lilith turned again towards the mansion. Like a dome shaped of light, its powerful wards loomed over the building. Threads of different colors spread from the ground, where they were anchored in headstones, to the summit of the dome, interwoven with each other to deny entrance to everyone their caster did not permit to do so.

_There´s no time like the present_, Lilith thought and began to work.

Circumventing wards, especially ones as powerful as here, needed a lot of power and even more caution and sensitiveness concerning the flows of magic and changes in the power pattern. Bending the threads too much in a wrong direction or too abrupt could lead to disastrous consequences such as the collapse of the complete warding scheme or the incineration of the ward breaker. You needed to know which threads to bend, which one to dissolve and which one connect in order to gain access. And all that without making someone noticing your tampering.

Carefully Lilith took on of the threads. She could feel the magic pulsing through the ward and now by extension through her. It was a warm feeling that spread through her whole being, meaning not her vessel, but her pure essence, her soul, or rather what her soul had turned into. It was soothing and mesmerizing, like warm cacao running through your throat after you came in from a cold outside walk.

Lilith took another thread and began to interweave them. Then she took another. And another. Slowly she breached the extensive warding bit by bit. Any lesser being would have utterly failed, for there were many threads that hadn´t even a prober function but raising alarm if someone tried to tamper with them. Furthermore they were hidden in between the more powerful strands so that you had to have a certain amount of power to even spot them.

Lilith didn't know how much time her work had took, but now she had a breach bog enough for her. Carefully and with much attention to the threads that framed her breach she stepped through it.

After she veiled her breach against detection, though it would only fool the weakest, she strode towards the main mansion with confident pace. There weren´t any guards she could detect, probably because the owner of the mansion thought his wards to be save.

_They were_, Lilith chuckled inwardly, _until I came._

There wasn't much ground to cover until she reached one of the walls of the mansion. She walked along the wall, covered with green vines, until she reached a back door, which she tried to open, but to no avail. It was closed. With a gesture of her hand Lilith had the door opened.

The room behind the door, once used for gardening equipment, was empty. A thick layer of dust covered every surface, from the ground to the broken shelves lying on the floor and it was only due to the fact that Lilith didn't need to breathe that she didn't had to sneeze.

Not bothering to look around, for there was nothing of interest, Lilith marched straight through the room and left through the second door. She entered a long hallway. Weak glowing lamps on the ceiling illuminated rough and grey concrete walls, pervaded by countless cracks indicating the lack of maintenance. Every few meters closed doors led to other parts of the mansion. And her it was that Lilith first encountered any kind of security.

Three demons stood a few doors away and had their head turned towards her the moment she had opened the door.

"Oh, silly me," Lilith giggled, when she noticed that she had been discovered. "Seems like I am lost."

And with that she snipped with her finger and the neck of one of the demons broke with a loud snap. His demonic essence tried to escape, but it was all in vain. Lilith extended her opened hand towards the black cloud and suddenly it seems as if it was imprisoned in some invisible sphere. Slowly Lilith closed the palm of her hand. Red lightning shot through the demonic cloud which became smaller and smaller until it finally combusted.

All that happened within few seconds.

"So," Lilith drawled, turning her attention back to the two still standing demons. "Who´s next?"

Without reacting to her mocking words, one demon charged towards her. Even for a demon he was rather fast and Lilith would have been in serious trouble if she wasn't a demon. But alas, she was able to sidestep the attack, but not without some harm.

She could feel a burning sensation on her check and blood flowing down on her skin.

"Naughty, naughty," she taunted when the demon attacked her again.

He tried to hit her, but she was able to evade by slipping under his swinging arm. Lacking any resistance, the demon lost his balance and stumbled forward, trying to regain his composure. But it was already too late: With a swift move Lilith buried her right hand deep within the demon´s meat suit´s chest and gripped his heart. She tightened her grip. The demon began to glow from within, the red light becoming brighter and brighter, evaporating through his eyes and mouth, until it finally stopped and the corpse unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

"You should have attacked while I was still busy with your friend here," Lilith said as she turned towards the last demon still standing.

"Then you maybe would have had a chance," she shrugged. "Or not."

Then she charged the demon. He let himself fall to the ground, rolling to the side. Lilith shot straight over him. Sliding over the floor, Lilith struck her hand into the ground and used her momentum to position herself facing towards the demon with one swift turn.

_Peng. Peng_. The bullets pierced Lilith´s chest and threw her against the wall. She could feel the metal stuck in her lungs and heart. The demon just grinned at her cockily.

"Not so cocky when you´ve got bullets filled with holy water stuck in you, aren't you?" he taunted. Huh, that was why the bullets caused such an uncomfortable sting in her body.

"Now, let´s have some fun," the demon continued while he advanced towards her. "Don't want that nice meat suit go to waste, do we?"

When the demon was finally within arms' reach, Lilith attacked. Before the demon could even react, she flung him against the opposite wall with flicking of her hand.

"Nice to know that we are of the same opinion," she said haughty while she run over the demon´s cheek with one finger, drawing blood with her nail.

"Now, where is your big boss?" she asked him in her sweetest voice. "We have some business to conduct. Or rather, I have. He doesn't even know that I am here, does he?" She gave him her most savage smile.

"Screw you," the demon spat at her but Lilith could practically smell the fear oozing from her trapped opponent. He knew that she was far more powerful than anything he had ever encountered before and that terrified him.

"Ahah, that wasn't something you should say to a lady," she chided him and dug her nail deeper into the demons skin whilst simultaneously sending a jolt of raw energy through it. The demon wanted to scream, but Lilith kept his mouth shut.

"Maybe now you will be a little bit more…polite," she suggested and moved her hand from the demon´s mouth. "Now, where do I find your master?"

The demon panted, but he did not try to attack her again.

"Stairs…at the end of the hallway…room at the top," he gasped. Lilith flashed him a smile.

"It was a pleasure," she said and killed the demon with a jolt of energy.

Now that all of her opponents had been dealt with, Lilith; after hiding their corpses and healing her injuries; proceeded in finding her way through the mansion. The demon had given her the right information: At the end of the hallway she found a stairway, which she ascended without hesitation, but still watching out for possible enemies. There were none.

When Lilith had finally reached the top of the staircase her surroundings had significantly changed: Whereas the area where she had firstly entered had never been intended for visitors, seeing that it wasn't decorated in any form or kind, now everything screamed of wealth and influence. The walls were wallpapered with royal red wallpaper with golden embroidery at the edges, creating separated blocks along the wall. Within every block hung portraits in golden frames, depicturing the owner of the mansion in a rather striking poses. In one he held the world within his palm while sitting on a golden throne, whereas in another he sat upon a pile of gold.

Lilith snorted. Modesty had never been a trait of him.

At the end of the hallway Lilith spotted a large double door, similar in style like the walls, meaning mainly red with golden decoration. Without second thought Lilith pushed the door open and walked in the room lying behind.

If you had thought that the hallway in front of said room had been rich decorated, this one would have you reassess your opinion. Along three of its four walls shelves stood which held various, mainly golden, trinkets, which magic buzzed throughout the room. On the other side of the room, opposite to the door, stood a large desk made of precious tropical woods, behind which the mansion´s owner sat.

"Crowley," Lilith chirped and walked through the room, letting herself down in one of the two seats in front of the desk. Said demon was able to mask his surprise rather well; his disbelief and fear only showing for a second.

"Lilith," he said in polite note, nevertheless with the underlying sentiment that he would rather have her back in hell than in his office. "How did you manage to come upstairs?"

No matter in which regards you held Crowley, you had to admit one thing: He was a cunning individual. Faced with Lilith, a demon far more powerful than her, he did not yield to his instincts or fear, but rather sought answers to pressing question; answers which could prove to be valuable for him in the future.

"A friend helped out," Lilith evaded. "Can´t say that I regret it. The climate and the food are rather pleasant in comparison to what hell can offer." Crowley snorted.

"I didn't know we offer food down there," he said and gripped a bottle of whiskey and a glass. When he looked at her, Lilith shock her had to indicate that she was in no mood for the demon´s beverage.

"If you count the entrails as food, than yes we do," Lilith sad nonchalantly and Crowley chocked on his whiskey.

"So, Lilith," he said after he had finished drinking. "Let´s talk business here. We both know that you don't like me and I fear and hate you. You are hell-bent, please excuse the pun, on freeing that archangel, who behaves like a five-year-old with a temper tantrum, whereas I indulge in all what humanity has to offer, inclusive their very souls. Besides helping you to bring along the End, what could possible make you come visiting me?" He paused for a moment.

"Furthermore," Crowley continued. "Couldn't you have entered like every other guest? Did you really have to manipulate my wards and kill my guards? That was completely uncalled for."

"Please, Crowley," Lilith said. "You would have teleported to Tahiti the moment I had crossed your wards."

"That´s only true to 50%," Crowley retorted. "It would have been Paris, not Tahiti. What could I possible want there?" He took another sip from his whiskey. "Now, back to topic? What. Do. You. Want?"

"Crowley, the way you speak you would get the impression that you don't want me to be here," Lilith teased, but became somber shortly after.

"If anything of what I tell you know makes its way behind those ridiculous decorated hallway of yours, you will endure anguish beyond anything you can imagine," she threatened. "And you were in hell, so that means something." To Crowley´s reputation you have to say that he didn't outright flinch from her threat. The only sign that his fear had increased was the repetitive twitching at his red tie.

"This aforementioned friend of mine and I," Lilith continued. "We…how should I put it…have opened our own team in this whole Apocalypse game Hell and Heaven are playing. And seeing that we are only two, albeit very powerful, individuals we wanted to expand our little team. Congratulation you made it into the re-call!" Lilith flashed him a bright smile.

Whereas the threat before did not manage to crack Crowley´s business attitude, what Lilith had revealed to him now had him gaping like a fish on land. But before he could answer, a ting could be heard from telephone on the table. Probably thankful for the distraction, Crowley reached for it.

"Yes," he said. "…are they still living?...Two you say?...Bring them to me!" He hung up.

"Excuse me," he said when he turned back to Lilith. "My guards have picked up some strays and I have to take care of them before we can go back to your…proposition." Lilith just nodded. A few moments later the door opened and four demons walked in, their meat-suits big and brawny. Two of the two demon held a limp figure each, bruised and battered.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Crowley drawled. "To what do I own the pleasure, John and Dean Winchester?"

* * *

**AN**: And we have a cliffhanger. Please don't kill me? This chapter was rather Lilith-centric and I liked it, because it´s Lilith! If I had a child I would totally name it Lilith, because it´s a great name. Maybe you have already realized but I spell it out: I don't have anything important to say and therefore am rambling. Hope to see you again, dear reader!


End file.
